


Light and Dark

by hiltonslytherin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 3: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Canonical Character Death, Character Death Fix, F/F, F/M, Female Reader, Reader Insert, Reader-Insert, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:41:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 40,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28178556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiltonslytherin/pseuds/hiltonslytherin
Summary: 𝐁𝐨𝐲 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥.𝐁𝐨𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥.𝐁𝐨𝐲 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥.𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐟𝐚𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐠𝐨 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥?𝐓𝐖 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐮𝐥𝐭, 𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐮𝐬𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡. 𝐕𝐢𝐞𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐝𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝.I do NOT own the HP franchise. J. K. Rowling allows fanfiction when she is credited. I do not agree with her TERF agendas. This will not be canon compliant. Erasure of queer relationships and identities will be rectified. Begins in reader’s third year.
Relationships: Cedric Diggory/Harry Potter, Cedric Diggory/Reader, Draco Malfoy/Reader, Harry Potter/Reader, Hermione Granger & Reader, Pansy Parkinson/Reader, Ron Weasley/Reader, Weasley Twins/Reader
Comments: 25
Kudos: 31





	1. iii. Sandbox Love Never Dies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ❝Magic isn't just holding a wand, waving spells and bubbling potions, magic comes from the heart, and magic isn't just spells. Feelings are magical too, it just depends on how you use them, how you see them, and how you believe in them.❞

July 13, 1993

Third Person POV

(Y/N) sat nervously outside of Headmaster Fontaine's office. She picked at her recently bitten down nails, recalling every single detail about her best friend. Her third year at Ilvermorny had just began; and it was already spiraling out of control.

At first it was minor inconveniences, such as scrambled scheduling and losing her Prussian blue blazer with the single Thunderbird patch representing her house. Then her grades were dropping drastically in Charms, Magical Literature and History, Gemology, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and even Creature Care. Her and her friends began to quarrel endlessly about who was the best looking, or who deserved to sit in front during Potions, or even just simply who were still friends. Then, it escalated to the disappearance of Allison and the interrogations from professors and fellow students. 

Allison Hastings, formerly known as Ilvermorny's 'It Girl'. Tall and blonde in contrast to her melanin enriched skin tone, she catered to the majority of Ilvermorny boys. She was one of Wampus' most favored students. Everyone admired her, wanted to be her, or despised her. It was simple.

(Y/N) on the other hand felt indebted to her. Always needing to repay her for all that she's done. She hated feeling so helpless or in need for her. Allison and the Hasting's family offered their home to her. She even welcomed her into her exclusive friend group at 11 years old without batting an eye. From then on, they had always been together.

Unfortunately, (Y/N)'s parents were nomajs who didn't want their daughter to be exposed to the wizarding world. They refused to let her attend Ilvermorny until the Headmaster and the Magical Congress of the United States of America became involved. According to Fontaine, repressing (Y/N)'s magical abilities would be detrimental and he had the dire need to help her. Her parents still refused, causing them to have to rid them of her custody and into the guardianship of a the MACUSA. The (L/N)'s were taken care of to ensure safety as she schooled. It was only temporary, the MACUSA assured (Y/N) that. The (L/N)'s constantly wrote to (Y/N) begging her to return home and try to forget about magic, but she only wrote back to talk about her high marks and adventures. So, the Hasting's were handpicked to create an environment she could flourish in, instead of being repressed and denied in. Being pure-bloods, they opened (Y/N)'s eyes and helped her get accustomed to a magic-enhanced life. They allowed her to reside there until she completed her schooling and could continue a career successfully. So, the big question clouded every inch of her headspace, why was she the one getting questioned about her best friend's disappearance? Allison was the closest thing she had to family.

If anything, (Y/N) assumed she had just went too far to be entertaining at a school party, as she usually did, and needed a hangover day. That was her most logical assumption. Well, up until that 'hangover day' turned into a two week long hiatus. It was unlike Allison to miss classes, let alone ignore her friends for so long. She was a social butterfly who thrived on attention. 

(Y/N) sat on the cool, marbled bench, fiddling with the hem of her tartan cranberry red and blue skirt. Waiting. Waiting for what seem like an eternity for her first official questioning. Headmaster was obligated to, Allison's parents were beyond worried and had bombarded the school with wrath. She usually wrote to them every other day about classes or students, so they knew something had to have happened. They threatened to involve much bigger wizards to get to the bottom of this.

Abruptly, the Theodard Fontaine statue circled in a clockwise motion to reveal the Headmaster's office-entrance. (Y/N) quickly set her gaze towards it, not daring to look away. Not too soon after, Algibert Fontaine and Fiyero Doomes came walking out. 

(Y/N) had met Ero through Allison. He was not the politest, but he was beyond intelligent and (Y/N) appreciated those aspects. Unfortunately for him, his condescending personality and ignorance to his lack of social cues, she didn't particularly love his company. He too was a third year, but sorted into Horned Serpent. 

He was definitely getting asked about Allison's whereabouts, they were dating. Unfortunately, many of the boys Allison had went through didn't know about him. It was weird for (Y/N) because at certain times, he treated her as if she was the one he was dating. Being a little pushy about hanging out together without Allison, or even getting mad when boys showed her attention.

The headmaster and student began towards (Y/N) with blank faces, causing her stomach to drop.

(Y/N)'s POV

I scanned Ero's face for fear, for any sign of worry, but it was blank. We made eye contact for a split second and the ends of his mouth curved into a small smile but he brushed my existence off with little care. 

"When you are done, the owl should have arrived already with the acceptances." Fontaine began. "Once I am completed with Miss (L/N), I will assist you with deciding and begin your travel plans. Then we can inform your parents on the option that prioritizes your best interest." 

My eyes widened and I became slack-jawed. Travel plans? Why would he be traveling during this fiasco? The last thing we needed was another disappearance or to bring attention to ourselves.

"Thank you sir, I appreciate your assistance." Ero said dryly, looking at me with warning, shaking his head no while tightening his jaw. But not once did he speak to me. He soon disappeared down the hall towards the Horned Serpent dormitories, stomping with each step. 

"Headmaster, what did you mean by travel plans?" I asked getting to the point, as my voice cracked. There was no reason to beat around the bush. I was quite familiar with Fontaine since he was so involved with my admittance to the school and my arrangements.

"(Y/N), come down to my office. There are things we need to discuss about your schooling." He said with remorse. I paused to speak, but knew it was probably best to continue down the stairs formed from the post headmaster's statue.

As we reached his space, I made my way over to the very familiar seating for students. As much as I wanted to deny it, being mischievous and back-talking had landed my bottom in this seat far too many times to count. 

"I know with everything going on you probably aren't going to be happy with what I'm about to tell you, but please know that from the beginning I have only had your best interest in mind. I need your trust," he began calmly. He soon made his way to his huge, wooden desk to continue. Quickly sitting down to face me, he began again,"-but, I am afraid it won't be safe for you to continue schooling here." 

My mouth opened quickly to object, but he cut in, "This is not up for debate. So let me explain the situation and your options?" He stated harshly. He was never like this, if anything he had a soft spot for me. 

"Is it because of what the other students have been saying? Their parents have started getting involved and think we are the problem?" I questioned angrily. "Fiyero and I would never hurt her."

"Not everything is black and white. I understand you are upset, but there is so much more you have not yet known." He justified with sympathy. 

"So much more I do not know yet?" I scoffed. "You have already pulled our memories, talked to other people, and even spoken to Allison's family; I'm not sure why I'm still having the blame placed on me!" I sputtered out, hoping I could get some valid explanation. Ilvermorny has been my home. The biggest source of my happiness and it's being torn away. Tears began to well up in the corner of my eyes as I looked down. 

"Dear, the majority knows that this wasn't an awful occurrence sourced from you and your friends. That is why you three must be sent way. It runs deeper than you may think, and you might end up just like Allison if you aren't in a safer location. I'm sorry for what has happened and I know you are hurting from your loss, but there is a bigger picture." Fontaine said noticing my sour looks and puffy eyes. "We need to decide another school for you. Now. For the safety of you and others." 

He said three. So Charlize must be getting lectured next. 

A single tear streamed down my cheek. My face felt hot and angry. There wasn't even another magical school in this country. I was going to go across the globe. I was going to lose everything I had, again.

"What are my options?" I asked in defeat. Honestly, I can't handle being looked at like I was the reason for a kid being on the back of a milk carton. "Am I going back to nomaj school, back with my family? Do they even know what happened? I would like to speak with them soon, is that alright?" I asked eagerly.

"No. Absolutely not. " He said quickly. "You have extraordinary powers. It would be a shame to repress it and not explore. You need to continue magical schooling." 

"There isn't another school here? I mean, not in America at least." I said with fear clouding my headspace. The multiple candles in his office caused my face to feel even more overheated.

"I have considered many schools for you. All amazing, but you need the best of the best. I'm expecting Durmstrang Institute for Magical Learning for Mr. Doomes. Beauxbatons for Miss Madley." He said scanning my face.

"I'm not fluent in another language, Fontaine. And it seems that you're separating us, far far apart." I said piecing the small clues together. I scanned his face, his beard had started to gray more as his crows feet had deepened. Maybe he was getting too old to make these decisions.

"I am. That's why I have owled an old friend of mine." He got up, making his way towards the dying fire in his office. "You see, one of the most powerful wizards I know is a headmaster of a phenomenal school. The only school I feel comfortable with you going to."

I swallowed hard. "Is it terribly far?" 

"Have you ever been to London , (Y/N)?" he asked with a grin.

"It's in London? That seems very hard to keep hidden." You said skeptically.

"Not necessarily, but it's where you will be staying until you travel to the school. The school is located in Scotland highlands, but traveling will not be so difficult." He said as he finished reviving his fire and walking over to his ginormous bookcase. 

He scanned many of the books before selecting a large hard-back book titled 𝘏𝘰𝘨𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴, 𝘈 𝘏𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 by Bathilda Bagshot. He then opened a small box containing a letter with a wax seal. 

"I believe this is for you. I received it shortly after owling Albus himself." He said while walking over to hand me the letter and book. He gave my shoulder a reassuring squeeze and nodded for me to open it.

I took it from him gently and scanned the letter and book. It was an aged color. It seemed ancient almost. My eyes quickly landed on the seal for the letter. Bright red wax, with a large 'H' in the emblem. I peeled it and opened the letter nervously, hoping it wouldn't be disappointing. Two sheets of thick parchment came out. I then read: 𝘏𝘖𝘎𝘞𝘈𝘙𝘛𝘚 𝘚𝘊𝘏𝘖𝘖𝘓 𝘖𝘍 𝘞𝘐𝘛𝘊𝘏𝘊𝘙𝘈𝘍𝘛 𝘈𝘕𝘋 𝘞𝘐𝘡𝘈𝘙𝘋𝘠 𝘏𝘌𝘈𝘋𝘔𝘈𝘚𝘛𝘌𝘙: 𝘈𝘓𝘉𝘜𝘚 𝘋𝘜𝘔𝘉𝘓𝘌𝘋𝘖𝘙𝘌 (𝘖𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘔𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘯, 𝘍𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘊𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘴. 𝘎𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘚𝘰𝘳𝘤., 𝘊𝘩𝘪𝘦𝘧 𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬, 𝘚𝘶𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦 𝘔𝘶𝘨𝘸𝘶𝘮𝘱, 𝘐𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘊𝘰𝘯𝘧𝘦𝘥. 𝘰𝘧 𝘞𝘪𝘻𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴) 𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘳 (𝘠/𝘕) (𝘓/𝘕), 𝘞𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘦𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘏𝘰𝘨𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘚𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘧𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘞𝘪𝘻𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘳𝘺. 𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘳𝘺 𝘣𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘱𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘣𝘦 𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘋𝘪𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯 𝘈𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘺. 𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘒𝘪𝘯𝘨'𝘴 𝘊𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘴 𝘚𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘰 9 3/4 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘏𝘰𝘨𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘌𝘹𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴. 𝘛𝘦𝘳𝘮 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘚𝘦𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 1. 𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴 𝘚𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺, 𝘗𝘳𝘰𝘧𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘰𝘳 𝘔𝘤𝘎𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘋𝘦𝘱𝘶𝘵𝘺 𝘏𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴 The next parchment was a supply list I was supposed to use while retrieving items from 'Diagon Alley'. Yet, instead of worry about what kind of place that is, I kept eyeing the "you have been accepted to Hogwarts" part. "Hogwarts? I have only heard about it a few times." I looked up pleadingly. I noticed the gap between our first day of school and theirs. We began July 1. "Are you really making me leave? After how hard you fought to get me to study here?" My voice cracked. I studied his face for any sign of regret, but he just met my eyes. His dark ones softened at the sight. Part of me was so terrified about leaving the country and having to adjust.

"Hogwarts is an amazing school. Headmaster Dumbledore can take care of you better than anyone else. You will excel there." Fontaine said reassuringly. He picked up a quill and marked down something briefly. I looked back down at the letter and pondered about how much my school year was beyond my reach of control. No wonder Ero was so emotionless, how does someone absorb this quickly? 

"I spoke to Dumbledore about your situation-" He paused. "That your parents are not your guardians while your under the MACUSA program. That you have to have a host family." He looked up from his parchment, "He has found a family in London. They will be picking you up from the airport tomorrow. Their daughter is the only one with magic, but they are beyond supportive and eager to be involved with the wizarding world. I think it's a good choice for you. Maybe even better than the Hastings." He side-eyed me at the last part.

I looked up quickly knowing what he meant. At the end of the day, I was seen as someone to babysit. A burden to them. I looked good for their MACUSA positions, but they didn't genuinely care about my well-being. Allison maybe, but her parents were just respectful. Never a true parental figure.

"How are the Hastings?" I asked ignoring the part about the nomaj family. I didn't want to have to stress about it. I would just deal with it when I met them. "Do they know about this?" 

"Mr. Hastings suggested it." I looked down, knowing he didn't really appreciate me being there and was probably relieved due to this opportunity. "Mrs. Hastings on the other hand was saddened. You were her last piece of Allison and she cared about you." 

"Do I get to go to the Hastings' house to get my belongings?" I asked suddenly worried about how I would manage to fly to London. I don't even have a ticket or anything packed.

"They already sent them." He said quietly trying not to hurt my feelings. I'm going to miss him. He was like a grandfather to me, always giving me a piece of his wisdom or letting me know I had someone here who wanted me to go great things. He loved me. Not inappropriately of course, but I knew that he had more reasonings far more complex.

"So this is it? I have to drop everything again." I asked dryly. I really didn't want to be mad at him, but I can't help the sudden rise of anger. I had just gotten settled and accustomed to my new family, my school, my lifestyle. Part of me wanted to blame Allison but I soon felt guilty. It wasn't her fault that it affected me. She was probably suffering right now. 

"For now. I suggest you go to your dormitory and gather everything. All of your stuff from the Hastings' is in there. Hogwarts does not use the same books as us, so you will not need to pack them. Just your belongings, when you're done meet the Thunderbird head by the front doors." The headmaster said firmly realizing the snappiness was going to lead to you trying to find a way out.

I nodded while muttering a quick goodbye and started to leave. But guilt set in, and I ran to hug him bye. He wasn't much of a hugger, so I was only patted back in return. I let go and softly smiled before turning towards the door.

As I hurried out, I saw Charlize waiting. She brushed a few dark curls out of her face as we made eye contact. I sent her an apologetic look and she stared back confused.

I rushed down the the hall, it was like a long, unwinding maze. My dorm was close by and I couldn't be more happy. I was tired of the gazes from the same students who couldn't resist bringing up Allison. Not once had they asked how you or your friends felt, they just asked about her. Of course they should be curious, but I mean to be completely oblivious to her friends hurting? It was just annoying to see how inappropriate these people acted in this situation. A girl is missing and they want to know if she is in rehab or just hiding out, who treats people like that?

I reached the top of the stairs and quickly shut the door. My roommates weren't dwelling on their respected sides. I let out a quick breath that I didn't know I was holding and looked towards my side of the room. I scanned for my stuff and my mouth gaped. My sheets and comforter were stripped off the bed. My desk was emptied into a small box and every single piece of clothing, toiletry, or knick-knack I had was shoved into my trunk. The tiny wall decorations and posters had been messily ripped of the wall. The only thing that wasn't out of sight were my school books in a neat stack. I sighed. Whoever packed for me just stripped this room of my identity. Once I leave with my stuff, it would be like I was never here. The knots in my stomach were painful and I couldn't hold it in. Tears streamed down my reddening cheeks as I closed the box. It was July 13 and I had already ruined my third year not even two weeks into the school year. I wasn’t even thirteen yet, but I had so many thoughts filling my head like thick cement being disgorged out to form an endless road. This is why Fiyero was walking away so, so quickly and was trying so hard to be unreadable. I couldn't even say goodbye to him or Charlize. Not to my roommates, not to my Charms or Creature Care teachers. No one. Not even Allison. 

I sniffled one last time, and wiped my face. I needed to calm down and stop acting like this. It was embarrassing, and frankly, I couldn't go out of the room crying with everything I own, looking suspicious. Everyone would know we were transferring and it would just become even more messy. Especially for fueling the rumors.

I grabbed the handle of my trunk and picked up the box in my other hand. I began leaving my dorm down to the entrance of the school quickly. Fortunately, it was class time so no one else was out here to witness me getting kicked out of my school. Then, soon enough, the Thunderbird head was in sight carrying papers. He was an old man, with thick rimmed glasses. He had canary colored pins, clashing with the Thunderbird colored robes. 

I walked over to him, fixing my posture and putting on a smile. "Fontaine told me to come to you after I retrieve my belongings. Is there anything else?" I asked him knowing it was my time to go. 

He nodded, "This is your ticket to London. Our student advisor had gotten a passport for you, as well as your documentations." The head hands me the tickets and begins again, "There is a nomaj vehicle awaiting us outside of the gates. Algibert believes it will be best if you don't travel to the airport alone, but I will not be flying to London with you." He said almost bittersweet he wouldn't be able to berate you about running in the halls or sassing another professor.

"Thank you. Does that mean I have to leave immediately?" I asked surprised, thinking I would at least get to have a day to be alone or even just to get situated.

"Yes Miss (L/N), it's important for you to get to your host family soon to begin gathering your supplies for your new school. Traveling and transitioning can be hard if you don't get where you need to be at the right times." He said eyeing me like I was being unreasonable for not wanting to fly outside of the country and restart a life I wasn't ready for.

I nodded. He began towards the exit as I rolled my eyes at his condescending remark. Soon he opened the large doors and we exited. I took in the view. The vast forest hiding the school at Mount Greylock. It was cloudy and murky weather, to hide the school of course. It was enchanted to hide the castle, but it was still magical they had found such a place so naturally concealing.

The yellow car was running, the exhaust spewing out from the behind almost as if it was more than ready to leave the place. I went to the passenger's side backseat and opened the door calmly. I managed to shove my trunk and box of belongings into other side and climbed in. I buckled up as the head of Thunderbird began getting into the driver's side. I noticed he had changed his attire to more nomaj fitting standards. He could tell I was upset and gave me my space to think instead of his usual berating. I checked the thin, silver watch around my wrist. It was 10:57 am. I wanted to go over every single possibility of what kind of host family I would be with. The possibilities of my new life. What type of school was Hogwarts? What type of people would be there and who could I befriend? Would I even be able to visit my old friends? Was I necessarily safer or were my former classmates safer? Do I even want to continue living without my family? But my eyes became heavy and my body was tired of being so tense. I fell off into a peaceful sleep as the sky started misting.

The patter of heavy rain against the window forced my eyes to open. I took in my surroundings, the interstate. I looked down at my watch. It was 12:32 pm, yet I still felt exhausted. Annoyed at the rain for waking me up, I tried to focus on the light music playing and the calming rain to go back to sleep. 

The sudden jerk of the car parking woke me up. I tilted my head to look out of the window to see where we stopped. The airport of course, just didn't realize it was JFK International Airport in New York. I checked the silver wristwatch again for the time, 3:27 pm.

"Miss (L/N), we're here. Would you like me to come in and make sure everything is set? I'll help with your bags." The head said with sympathy. 

I hesitated to answer, if any of them actually cared they wouldn't be sending me somewhere beyond unfamiliar and frightening. I nodded while diverting my eyes from his. I couldn't bear to look at another face I would have to leave behind.

"You only need to help carry the box, I can handle my trunk." I said, attempting to persuade him to just leave it, but he insisted. He must have felt guilty about contributing to the whole ordeal. 

"It's the least I can do since I can't fly you out there. Just be safe and don't go off with any strangers." He jokes. Of course it's only as funny as an old person can be.

"As if, I'm not in elementary school." I scoffed, then soon smiled. I never got to see this side of him. Usually it was detentions or extra work, never farewells and light-hearted jokes. 

I stared up at him for a moment. Scanning his face, the aged skin and soft eyes, he is a good man who only cared about his students. I smiled slightly and began towards the entrance. He easily carried my stuff and met me right inside. Then he set the book into my hand. 

"Let me check in for you, and then we will get your luggage settled." I nodded slightly and watched him go to the counter to a small woman. He soon came back with a paper, and we dropped my luggage off. 

"You have to go through security, and then you'll be off to your boarding gate. The flight is at 4:00. You should be arriving at the London airport within six to seven hours. The host family they selected will be their for your arrival." He looked at me with a hint of happiness, and smiled. "You'll be fine."

I looked up at him and lunged for a hug. He patted the top of my back and grinned, "Stay out of trouble for me." 

"Thank you. For coming, and for putting up with me so long." I smiled looking up. I was going to miss his lectures and remarks towards Allison and I, but I was never telling him that. 

I gave him a quick glance and started towards the boarding gate. My stomach began to churn as a became closer and closer to getting on. It was my first time and my mind was going over every worst-case scenario. I inhaled sharply and got on. It had to be done, and I'm sure if something did happen, wishful thinking would suggest me or another wizard would be able to help. 

Surprisingly the hours seemed to pass very quickly. I had entertained myself with the small snacks provided, reading 𝘏𝘰𝘨𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴, 𝘢 𝘏𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 by Bathilda Bagshot, being very, very annoyed by the wailing four year olds, watching movies from the provided mini screens, and napping often. 

Soon enough, we landed and a wave of relief flooded over me. I took in how many strangers were near me, bustling around. So many people were getting up to stretch their limbs, tend to their children, and get their carry-ons. I felt so lonely. Everyone had someone to turn to except me, like in a ‘pick your partner’ project in class. I got up quickly with just the book held to my chest, and exited. I checked over at a local's digital watch, it read 11:49pm. It was late, and the family was probably annoyed.

As I made my way to the baggage claim, that's when my nerves started to set in about the host family. I began trembling picking up my trunk and attaching the box to it.What would I do if the host family hated me? What if they made me sleep in the living room on the couch, or even decided to rehouse me? I definitely wouldn't do anything to deserve it, but it still crept into my head. I unintentionally held my breath as I walked toward the other side of the departure gate. That's where other passengers met with relatives or coworkers. I scanned over the crowd with small posters or job logos, hoping to see my name. I gripped my trunk handle and my book harder when I saw my name.

It was a small, pale-pink poster that read (Y/N) (L/N) neatly. After I scanned it over, I looked up to the family surrounding it. Just three people, two adults and their daughter. The teenager was holding the poster scanning the crowd for me. The parents weren't that old, maybe late twenties. The mother had dark hair and thick bangs, with a sweet face. She looked so fragile. The father was a tall, slender man with light-brown hair. The daughter had huge, frizzy hair. She looked up at me with pretty brown eyes and a small smile as I stepped towards them. I smiled back sweetly as our eyes met. The buzzing of everyone around me meeting their people and conversing made my anxieties peak. I made my way over.

As I got there I was quickly embraced by the older frail woman. 

"It's so good to finally meet you! I am Monica Granger!" She spoke, with a posh english accent. She let go, observing how I reacted to the immediate affection. I returned a sweet smile.

"It's so amazing to meet you guys! Thank you all for even considering this! Especially with how soon it is for the school year to start for you guys." I widely grinned glancing at all of their expressions. They were so much more welcoming than the Hasting's were back in my first year. I had just traveled into their home by floo powder and they were very upset about the mess. This was not as bad as I anticipated, they seemed so welcoming and kind. I just hoped they wouldn't have the prejudiced ideas against Americans. "I'm sorry if this intruded on your summer plans-"

"Absolutely not! We were beyond delighted to hear from Dumbledore about you!" Mrs. Granger said enthusiastically while motioning for her husband to grab my trunk. "Hosting an American witch and offering her the opportunity to study abroad? Incredible. We honestly felt a little left out being muggles, but now we get to be a little more involved in the wizard world." Mrs. Granger stated as her husband nodded politely.

"Muggles? Is that the term you guys use for nomajs?" I questioned as I began to walk with the family to the exit. Secretly, I was relishing in how welcomed I felt. 

Mrs. Granger smiled and opened her mouth to confirm, but she wasn't the one who answered. It was the bushy-haired teen who interrupted. She was looking at the book I was holding with astonishment.

"Is that 𝘏𝘰𝘨𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴, 𝘢 𝘏𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺?" The girl spoke with widened eyes. "I couldn't even get my friends to read that, and it was part of our curriculum first year!" She exclaimed, looking beyond happy. Her accent being just as posh, you could tell these were intelligent, well-mannered people. 

"Yes!" I began, realizing how amazing this family was warming up to me, "My old headmaster gave it to me, I haven't learned about Hogwarts, so I thought it would be good to read up on it so I wouldn't be entirely lost." I said sheepishly, not trying to sound too excited about a book. Truth be told, it was well written and made Hogwarts seem even more magical.

"Oh! I can definitely help you with getting familiar with Hogwarts, I have so many books and assignments you can look at!" She said beaming towards me, her eyes lingering on the book for a second. "That's one of my absolute favorite books!"

"Thank you, er-" I stopped abruptly, realizing I had not been told her name. I looked up questioningly, hoping she understood and she caught on rather quickly.

"I'm Hermione, Hermione Granger." She said warmly, holding out her hand. I grinned widely and took her hand in mine to shake. Both of Hermione's parents glanced at us befriending each other before making eye contact and smiling. 

"This is my husband, Wendell, who is doing a terrible job of introducing himself." She said while giving him a reprimanding look, but still smiling. I smiled towards the balding man, the smile he returned reached his eyes. I've never felt such sincerity from a group of people in my life. 

We had just exited the airport and started off into the parking lot. The sky was starting to mist and the stars above were twinkling brighter than they did at home. There weren't any buildings close by for aircraft clearance, but it was right near the bustling city. I could hear the sounds of stopped traffic and planes landing as we tiredly walked to their vehicle. Even though I had slept the car ride to New York and momentarily on the plan, I couldn't help to feel jet-lagged. Mr. Granger was carrying my luggage with ease, dare I say, happy to do it. Mrs. Granger was on his right as he went on about getting takeout for the four of us. On cue, my stomach growled. Embarrassed I looked towards them to make sure they didn't hear, but unfortunately the youngest Granger did. 

Hermione inched back towards my side and giggled, "I'm guessing the food on your flight wasn't too filling?"

I look towards her sheepishly and grinned, "Oh no, lightly salted almonds and luke-warm soup was really one of the best meals I've had." I said sarcastically.

"Our catering wasn't too delicious on our recent flight either. It was a salad with expired dressing and a stale cake on the side. It was rather horrible; the flight was so long too." Hermione said grimacing.

"You were on a flight recently? Where did you and your family travel to?" I asked, intrigued.

"Hermione, I hope you're not boasting about France! It was an educational trip." Mrs. Granger spoke to chastise her daughter. 

My eyes widened. "You guys traveled to France?! Hermione, please do boast about the trip, tell me everything!" I demanded, quickly turning to her. She grinned and nodded eagerly just as we arrived to their SUV. Mrs. Granger went to the passenger's seat as Mr. Granger loaded my things into the trunk. Hermione advanced towards the backseat on the driver's side, so I climbed in on the passenger's side backseat. 

During the 25 minute car ride, Hermione had filled me in on every single detail of the trip. Her parents were dentists who had a paid vacation to attend a board meeting in Paris, causing them all to take advantage of the glorious offer. She spoke of Bourguignon and Dauphinoise, the Louvre, Cathédrale Notre-Dame de Paris, Arc de Triomphe, and the awful flight. The food dishes to her were always hit or miss, but to her parents they were life-changing. Hermione was most pleased to talk about her trip the museum, she adored the Classical art. She spoke highly of the Venus de Milo and how it was the most enduring representation of classical female beauty. She also adored Psyche Revived by Cupid's Kiss. Hermione said it was based on a classical romance, and the piece captured the most poignant moment of the story with immense tenderness. I could tell that Hermione was one of those book people, the ones that really researched and sought out information. She could go on and on about minuscule details and topics she adored. But, I found myself being interested, not annoyed. She had a way of making you want to learn more, she never spoke condescendingly. It was always refreshing to hear what she had to say about each exploration the Granger family had. The only time she paused to talk was when we had picked up a to go order from a local Thai place. 

We pulled into a suburban neighborhood as Hermione had just finished talking about Kouign-amann. The neighborhood had a sign that read: "Hampstead Garden Suburb" at the entrance. Most of the houses looked very high-income.

We soon reached a cul-de-sac. We pulled into the driveway of a huge two-story house, it was one of the nicest ones here. If the visual of the gorgeous house wasn't enough, the aroma of the Thai food was making me more eager to get inside and eat the entire order. When we came to a complete stop, Mr. Granger and I got out of the car to go towards the trunk for my things as Hermione and Mrs. Granger took the food inside. He was about to carry my trunk in but I insisted on declining his polite offer, he did do most of the carrying anyways. Then I quickly walked into the Granger's front door.

My eyes were scanning over the simplistic, yet expensively decorated living room towards my left. It was very clean and the furniture was neatly placed. Right in front of the door was a wooden staircase, with family portraits aligned perfectly against the wall leading upstairs. 

"You can leave your trunk by the door and we can take it upstairs after we eat." Hermione spoke as she came emerged from a corridor connected to the living room. She was attempting to balance four plates, four drinking glasses, and multiple utensils.

I set my trunk down quickly to save her from dropping every breakable thing she held. I laughed quietly as we managed to get to the kitchen and not shatter any of the items.

The midnight dinner mostly consisted of Boom Boom Shrimp—perfectly cooked shrimp, generously covered in creamy sweet chili sauce, Panang curry with jasmine rice, and spring rolls. Mrs. Granger had already prepared a butterfly-pea flower lemonade that just made everything a million times better. Surprisingly, the conversation flowed so well with the family, it was never awkward or uncomfortable. Very unlike my rare family meals with the Hastings.

After Hermione and I bid our goodnights to them, I grabbed my trunk and we made our way to the second floor. 

She led me to a room connected to a bathroom and another bedroom rather than other room father away from the stairs. 

"Now that I think about it, maybe it was rather dumb. I've always wanted a sister, but I'm fairly certain you'd probably want your own space since I'm a strange." She said feeling embarrassed, "I'm so sorry, I can help you move the stuff the another room if you'd like, we have four spare rooms!" She quickly said while turning her gaze the other way. 

I was looking at the room that was supposedly mine. The room was painted a light shade of blush pink. A full-sized bed was placed in the middle of the left wall, above the bed frame was the painting "Après le bain, femme s'essuyant" by Edgar Degas. The wall facing the entrance had a huge window with a cushioned windowseat. The view was facing their yard's garden. Around the window were installed bookcases, filled with dozens of books and movies. The room was lit with fairy lights streamed with artificial flowers. The wall opposite of the bed had a medium-sized television with a mantle.

I turned to gape at her. Was she absolutely crazy?

"Why would I want to to switch? This room is beyond perfect!" I looked at her face realizing she thought I wouldn't want to be as close as she did. I smiled, "Plus, it's right beside my new best friend." 

She smiled back in return. "You should probably shower first, I know uniforms are the worst, and you've been forced in yours all day." She headed towards the door on the same wall as the television, "There should be some washed towels under the sink, I'll be right next door if you need anything." She said kindly as the went through the bathroom to get to her room. As she went inside her room, she shut the door that led to her room to give me my privacy.

I raced back to my trunk to get my toiletries and pajamas before heading to the shower. I then walked back to the bathroom to strip and turn on the shower to one of the highest temperatures. I mainly focused on cleaning my scalp after not washing my hair for a few days, and then my face to keep it clear for hormonal breakouts.

I dried off quickly and put on a tank top and pajama shorts, we were upstairs, so I knew it would get a little hot at night. 

I picked up my Ilvermorny uniform and went towards the bed. 

I couldn't help but to stare longingly at it as I sat down. I traced over the Thunderbird pin with my index finger. I really missed my friends. And I really missed Allison. I set the dirtied uniform down to open my trunk at the foot of the bed to pull out my photos. 

Some were framed and some were polaroids. A lot of the polaroids had Allison or Charlize's handwriting with sweet messages, causing my stomach to tighten. 

"You miss them, don't you?" Hermione spoke from the bathroom doorway.

I looked up startled until I remembered we shared a Jack and Jill bathroom.

"Yeah. A lot, actually." I said vulnerably. "I didn't think it would be this hard." I regretted what I said immediately, not wanting to freak her out and seem so whiny. "I'm sorry, I know it's stupid and not something to dwell on." I said trying to excuse me opening up so quickly. 

She ignored me. "You were closest to the one who went missing? Can you show me her?" I hesitated at first, but slowly nodded. I picked up one of my most recent photos of her. She was with me and Charlize, we were posed in front of Ilvermorny's entrance as Ero took the photo for us. 

I pointed at the polaroid, "The one on my right is Allison, the one who went missing. To my left is Charlize." She nodded in response as she inspected the photo. 

"You all look really pretty, Hogwarts uniforms are a bit more bland." She said while smiling, "and I think you should hang these up. Just along the fairy lights. It will help with being homesick." Guilt and embarrassment ran through me as she spoke. Thinking about Allison's disappearance and everyone's theories made me sick, and those thoughts were flooding my mind.

"Hermione, I don't want you to have the wrong impression of me because of what happened to Allison. Now that I think about it, I'm sure your parents think I'm some sort of juvenile delinquent and I'm some threat to the home." I said while I furrowed my brows. 

She chuckled and began, "Actually, quite the opposite. I'm not sure if you're good at reading people, but my parents aren't the type of people to invite some random, homicidal teen." She then picked up a few photos that weren't framed and stood up on the bed to begin attaching them to the lights. "Apparently you're really advanced in difficult magic and super studious, but with the looming crime and gossipers, you were beginning to decline. You needed somewhere to be able to actually learn and feel accepted. I honestly would implode with having people gape at me like that, and I'm best friends with Harry Potter! It's rather foolish if you ask me, to cause multiple students to relocate because of a poor girl going missing! We also learned about your custody ordeal. At first we were hesitant because we didn't know your blood status, but once we found out you are muggle-born, it was already an unspoken yes. My parents adore the idea of helping another muggle-born witch make it, and couldn't bare the thought of you staying with someone like Malfoy. Dumbledore thinks highly of you, so we do." Narrowing her eyes as she said the last name. "Plus, the way you miss them, you obviously didn't want this to happen."

I stared at her wide-eyed, not knowing how to respond. 

I picked up some of the other photos and stood up at the head of the mattress beside her. A million questions were flooding my brain.

"How is it that you know everything? And who is Harry Potter?" I began.


	2. iii. The Witch’s Attendant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You see, a witch has to have a familiar, some little animal like a cat or a toad. He helps her somehow.  
> Familiars are bound to their witches, so when their master dies, they die with them from the agony of losing them."

(Y/N)'s POV

"Just add some chocolate chips, Hermione." I said tenaciously.

"I just told you (Y/N), this pancake recipe doesn't call for chocolate chips!" Hermione spoke with her pertinacious tone. For whatever reason, she didn't want to stray away from this specific recipe from her mother's well-used cookbook.

I rolled my eyes and began towards the Granger's pantry in search of the small chocolate morsels. My eyes scanned the very organized shelves, desperate to find them before Hermione could finish making the batter. I could feel her staring holes into my head as I did so.

"You better not be looking for those chocolate chips!" Hermione started, "It will ruin the simplicity of the pancakes."

"I'm only looking for an unopened maple syrup, Mione." I said while thinking that adding the bag of chocolate chips would fix the bland simplicity. She simply huffed at the nickname and continued mixing the dry and wet ingredients.

"Hurry up, get out of the cupboard if you're not getting those stupid chocolates." Hermione spoke amused. Cupboard, honestly everything is so formal with the English people here.

Fortunately, Mr. and Mrs. Granger were not here to witness us arguing over adding one small ingredient to pancakes. They were working in their very prestigious dentist office. Across the city, they had quite the most popular dental facility. It is no wonder their home was so nice and welcoming, they had the funds.

I soon discovered the bag of chocolate chips stowed away behind the flour. I looked back towards the bushy-haired girl and smiled to myself when she didn't notice me retrieving the bag of goodies. I scavenged until I found the bottle of maple syrup and checked if Hermione was noticing my actions. She was rummaging through a half-opened drawer, for a ladle to spoon the batter into the heating pan. I quickly tore open the bag of chocolate chips and rushed to dump them in the bowl of pancake batter. As the small chocolate morsels began to pile in the gooey, beige batter, Hermione had whipped her head around scowling. She was not immensely angry, but her narrowed eyes definitely signified annoyance. I sheepishly grinned after I finished pouring and met her gaze. As her mouth opened to lecture me, she was quickly interrupted by three owls flying around her closed patio doors.

"Those must be from Ron and Harry!" She said while analyzing the snowy owl accompanied by a feeble owl that resembled a well-used feather duster and a regal tawny owl. Hermione scrambled to unlock the patio doors and relieve the owls of the commodities weighing them down. They quickly perched themselves onto her porch railings as she retrieved what was sent to her. 

Hermione had went to the tawny owl first. She untied a long newspaper from it's left leg and began to explain, "This is 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘋𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘗𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘵, it is basically the newspaper for our wizarding world. You should read through to get familiar with everything! I subscribed when I traveled to France to stay connected." Then she went back inside to set the thick papers on the table. When she came back she had a small bag of old french bread. She quickly divided the bread in three equal parts, and gave the bread to the tawny owl. As she fed it, I made my way to the white and brown owls.

"The pretty snowy owl is Harry's, her name is Hedwig. The other is Ron's. Errol is their family's owl, he's rather wonky isn't he?" She spoke as Errol wobbled around where he perched. I smiled at the older one, while I held my hand out to Hedwig. She quickly nuzzled into my palm and cooed. 

"I love this one, she is so sweet. We rarely use owl postage, but when we do they're very mean," I said admiring the owl before untying the letter from her. "This must be a letter from Harry?" I asked while handing it to Hermione. She had finished feeding the now leaving owl and made her way over.

"Yes, it is probably a thank you letter from his birthday gifts. Ron and I wrote to him about meeting in Diagon Alley when he gets back from Egypt. A week before school to get all of our supplies and new uniforms, it seems as if their procrastination has rubbed off on me! But it will be such a joy for you to get to go to Diagon Alley before your first year at Hogwarts, and you will get your first wand at Ollivander's!" She beamed. I couldn't help but to smile at the thought. Back at Ilvermorny, I could never even think about using a wand before I had turned seventeen.

As I was about to ask how one gets their wand, I couldn't help but notice Hermione quickly opening up the letter from her friend Ron, as her face flushed.The first night I had spent with Hermione, she had told me of her first and second year with Harry and Ron. During their first year, they retrieved a stone that provided immortality, guarded by a three-headed dog, a life-sized wizard chess set, and life threatening riddles. In their second year, Hermione was petrified by a basilisk, while the chamber of secrets was being opened by Ron's little sister, Ginny. Ginny had been manipulated by someone, Hermione called him He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, through an old diary. I couldn't help but notice the way she had definitely spoken of her friend more passionately than friends usually did. That night she had babbled on about how brave Ron was for sacrificing himself to help Harry and Hermione through the next obscenity, and how Ron had even caused a phony professor to fail at obliviating them both while saving his sister. It was quite obvious that Hermione had a crush on the redhead. I didn't know too much about the boys, but from what I could tell is that those two were probably the only people Hermione hung out with. 

I held in the remark about her crush and began, "While you finish up with the owls, I'll make the pancakes. But please set up the chairs again, it's so nice out and I need to bask in this light before it's cloudy again." I begged dramatically, surely hoping she'd want to get more sun before summer was over.

"If the pancakes are terrible, I blame you. Know that. But yes, I'll bring out the sun screen and chairs, just make sure you make us iced water, we don't need to get dehydrated!" She spoke warily. I grinned, she's my favorite worrywart.

I quickly walked inside and shut the doors so her AC bill wouldn't be too outrageous in this blazing hot July. 

Then, I quickly whipped up multiple pancakes and stacked them onto two plates. Putting the dishes in the sink and turning off the oven seemed to almost fly by with hunger fueling me. I then set those plates with towering pancakes on the table, alone with maple syrup to make us some waters before my eyes were caught by what Hermione had left on the table from the owls. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘋𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘗𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘵’𝘴 front page was completely covered with a wizard's mugshot and the phrase “SIRIUS BLACK ESCAPED FROM AZKABAN" 

It was one of the moving pictures that were often used in the wizarding world. He looked spiteful and malicious. He had long, dark hair matted around his face. His skin looked littered with wounds and tattoos. For a moment, my eyes were glued to his photo. Something about it made me sick. I couldn't shake off how uncanny and bad it made me feel to see it.

The doors quickly opened as Hermione barged in asking, "Are you done with the food, I'm starving!" 

I tore my eyes away from the escapee and smiled at her. I handed her the two plates and exclaimed, "The best pancakes you will ever have are done! All I have to do is make us something to drink."

Quickly finishing up, I made my way outside with the drinks and we began breakfast. Noticing how she didn't hate the pancakes one bit, I teasingly spoke up, "So what happened to enjoying the simplicity of your pancakes?"

"Be quiet." She said before taking another bite. I grinned.

Right after finishing and I began to drink, I started to wonder. How exactly do we get to Diagon Alley? Hermione's family were muggles, so they didn't exactly have accessible floo powder or apparation skills. 

"How are we getting to Diagon Alley?" I asked quickly.

"Oh! We are going through a pub, The Leaky Cauldron, it's here in London! It's like a gateway between the worlds. Harry is staying there this week." She explained animatedly.

A sinking feeling in my stomach arose. Hermione had two best friends waiting for her when she got back to the wizarding world. I was like her weird cousin she was forced to spend the summer with, just to have to show around everywhere when school began. She probably wanted to enjoy her time with the two friends she missed dearly rather than someone she has to explain everything to.

"What's wrong?" She asked immediately concerned at my sudden actions.

"Oh, it's nothing really. But wouldn't it be weird? With you having to introduce me to your friends and me being there while you guys meet up?" I asked full of embarrassment.

My embarrassment heightened when she started laughing. "What?" I asked as my voice got higher.

"It's just that, you're scared to meet Harry Potter and Ron Weasley!" She said as she laughed harder. "They didn't even want to be my friend until we escaped from a troll! They're really nice once you get to know them, it will be fine!" She said almost nonchalantly.

"Hermione, your friends sound crazy, and it will be so awkward!" I spoke more.

"You'll see. Now go change into your cozzy. I'll clear the dishes since you cooked." She said politely.

"Please tell me what a cozzy is." I asked bewildered. 

"Swimsuit." She said while laughing again, beginning to pick up our dishes. I rolled my eyes once again and raced back into the house. Once I made my way upstairs into my room, I quickly changed into a plain black bikini I had gotten the previous summer with Allison. I looked toward her picture for a moment and silently prayed she would be back soon. I went through the Jack and Jill bathroom that connected mine and Hermione's room to search for her swimsuit. I found a white one-piece and picked out two books from her second year to read outside.

After she had changed in the downstairs bathroom, she forced me into applying sunscreen because, "no one is immune to irreversible sun damage" and, "it will help me later on in the future."

We spent the rest of the day swimming and lounging to soak up the bit of summer bliss. It was quite similar to the first birthday I had spent here. It was the twenty-fifth of August when I was woken up by them all with a homemade cake, just to spend the hot summer day in their pool. It was a perfect summer.

As soon as we entered the pub, my ears were filled with a cacophony of clanking dishes and drunken conversations. While passing through the business, I began to realize it was also an inn for other wizards. Soon, and older wizard emerged from around the bar and began talking to Mr. Granger as he walked. We quickly passed through the inebriated wizards as Hermione's parents led us to an overgrown courtyard when exiting the pub. Just beyond the mangled weeds was a huge brick wall. The wizard, who navigated us all, quickly went up to the wall and began counting up three bricks and over two bricks three times before tapping one single brick. Once that brick was touched, the bricks seemed be forming into what people called the gates to Heaven.

Just beyond the brick doorway was literally a whole other world. An assortment of wizards, different kinds. The kind that didn't force themselves to fit in nomaj standards and could freely practice. The humongous alley was filled with shops, restaurants, and everything imaginable. The cobblestoned path was a yellow brick road to the wizarding world.

"We have to get going shortly to open up, here Hermione, this is for both of you. It's money to spend for your birthdays. I love you, do well this year!" Said Hermione's mother before kissing her on the cheek and hugging her goodbye with her father. Mrs. Granger turned to me and quickly hugged me. 

"You're good for her. Keep her head on, will you?" She said while smiling. I nodded while laughing. She checked over my bag to made sure I had everything, as well as Hermione.

"Of course, who else is going to keep me focused?" She smiled when hugging me bye and left soon after.

"Well, we'd better get to Gringotts before anything. You need to exchange your American currency for galleons, sickles, and knuts." She began, "then we can head to Flourish and Blott's, Madam Malkin's, Ollivander's, and then perhaps Florean's? They have such good icecream and it’s still summer!" She exclaimed. 

"Of course! I'm still not sure how the wand choosing goes though." I said warily, "I'd love that though." So we set off towards Gringotts.

It was too easy to spot, Gringotts towered over any other building in Diagon Alley. When we reached the snowy white building, we ascended up matching white stairs to burnished bronze doors. As soon as we entered we heard faint yelling from a man. He looked quite wealthy with embellished and gold patented garments.

"What do you mean you can't open a vault for him? He is the King of Uganda! His son is going to need that for dowries! The King needs that for his treasures!" The man bellowed. Hermione and I side glanced each other and hurried to the opposite side of bank workers. "I'm not leaving this goblin-infested bank until my King has a vault and is secured the most defense possible!" He finished. 

"I expected they would be less condescending here, you know towards magical creatures? Back home they have house elves and pet nifflers to scope out all sorts of things; I guess not?" I started towards Hermione.

"Honestly, it's probably worse here. We had a house elf come to us with help, and he'd beat himself every time he would give us information. I wish I could change it." Hermione said defeatedly. 

"If anyone could change it, it's you." I said while nudging her. She smiled back.

A goblin peered over their desk and asked, "What are you two here for? To get into a vault?" He began huffing in annoyance.

"No sir, just exchanging muggle and American money. That's all." Hermione said politely.

"American aye, it's been a while." He laughed out wryly while taking our money. "We will see how that goes." 

I glanced quickly at Hermione and we silently agreed to quickly leave the annoyed goblins and shouting man, as he began to get louder. Soon enough the enraged man glanced a little too much towards us for our liking, so we hurried off to a bookstore labeled Flourish and Blott's. We had purchased all of the books on Hermione's list regarding third year books, including a monster book that was actually considered a monster. The worker wasn't too pleased with that purchase. We soon finished at Madam Malkin's. She tailored my school skirts, apparently a little too short for Hermione's liking. I had also bought black school robes, a few button-ups, and socks. I had already purchase mary janes that would suit my uniform. The next stop was Ollivander's.

We soon entered the narrow store and I was amazed. Each shelf and drawer was stacked with hundreds of thousands of wand boxes. I was beyond thrilled to get a wand earlier than I anticipated.

"Hermione?" Called out a voice, her and I both turned around to see two redheads. One boy and a girl. 

"Ron! I didn't think you'd be here?" She said while bringing us closer to the two.

The lanky boy awkwardly held up a wand while unintentionally gawking at me. "It's willow, and unicorn tail-hair. Had to replace that broken stick passed down from Charlie." His nose and higher cheeks went pink.

"You got a new wand! That's going to be amazing for Transfiguration!" She started, but I couldn't really hear what she was saying after, I was too busy taking in the boy's appearance. He was really tall, but not too skinny. He did have the red hair Hermione spoke of, with really bright blue eyes and freckles on his pale skin that complimented him. He was also stanced really, really awkwardly. But nevertheless, he was adorable. I noticed the younger sister's eyes shift towards me but shift back quickly after I smiled in return. 

"Isn't that right, (Y/N)?" Hermione spoke towards me as they all looked at me.

"Huh?" I asked, not even trying to hide the fact I wasn't listening, giving her a look to try to discover why exactly she didn't tell me her secret crush was actually very attractive, with an accent. 

"I was telling Ron that your old school didn't allow wands until you were of age, and that you're getting yours today!" She said trying to ignore the crack in her voice around his name. I smirked. 

Finally making direct eye contact and speaking to him, I began, "Yeah, we aren't allowed wands until we turn seventeen. But it does give us less work since it's more practical." I said smiling. "You guys are Ron and Ginny? She's spoke a lot about you all." 

"Bloody hell, I wish we didn't have wands then!" He said while grinning. 

Hermione was going to start talking again but she was cut off by and old man who presumably worked at the store.

"Who needs a wand?" The man spoke.

"This is (Y/N). She's a transfer from Ilvermorny, they don't use wands until they're of age." I scowled at her for speaking for me, but turned to him politely.

"How exactly do we pick the wand?" I asked timidly.

"Oh Miss (Y/N), you don't pick the wand, it picks you. You look like someone I used to know actually, here let me pick a few!" He said as he ran off towards the back. 

I turned back alarmed as the other three snickered. "Is that normal?"

"He is weird with everyone." The youngest redhead said, finally speaking up. If I remember correctly, she's Ginny, the only girl and youngest of her siblings. I smiled at her reply and waited for Mr. Ollivander, listening in on Hermione and Ron chat about his new wand. 

"AHA!" We heard from back, causing us all to stifle laughter.  
Ollivander quickly came in with three wands for me two try.

"Here is a holly wood, dragon heartstring core, and ten inches and three-quarters length." He said handing me an ugly designed wand. "Give it a twirl." I looked towards Hermione and the two redheads and they nodded. 

Once I had moved my wrist in a circular motion holding the wand, the least wanted expectation happened. Other boxes of wands flew out, books scattered along the shop—one hitting Ron upside the head. My eyes widened at the sight. 

"I'm so, SO sorry!" I apologized to him, but he shrugged it off laughing. He was quite humorous.

"That usually happens until you get the right one, my twin brothers are far worse than that. It's alright, really. You could get better aim though." He said while smirking. I rolled my eyes and scoffed playfully.

"Here you can try this one, but let me go get another to try." Ollivander said.

I pulled out a wand much shorter than the last and gave it a flick. Suddenly, the room felt like a tornado swept through. This caused everyone's hair to go unruly and for papers to fly everywhere. I quickly dropped the wand back into the box and shut it. 

"I'm really sorry guys!" I said quickly.

"If it makes you feel better, it took me about twenty times to get my wand." Ginny said reassuringly.

"Thank you, really." I said pleased to know I wasn't the only one who caused such a fiasco.

"This is one of my most temperamental wands, the only one with this core. I usually refuse to make wands with these cores. Cherry wood, phoenix feather and veela hair core, twelve and a half inches long, unyielding wand flexibility. It's been here a long time. Haven't sold one similar since 1976." He said while walking back towards us. "Give it a try already!" 

I quickly took the wand and moved it hastily. Suddenly the area around me started to glow, it felt that I had gained a stronger sense of magic.

"YAY!!! You've got your wand, (Y/N)!!" Hermione cheered. Both of the redheads happily nodding.

"Curious and curiouser. I'm glad this wand has chosen you. Let's go ring you up?" I nodded giddily and went up to the register, still admiring my wand. Ending up paying nine galleons, we set out of the shop thanking him right before.

"Where are you lot going now?" Asked Ron suddenly. Eyeing a crowd passing by nervously.

"Well we are truly finished up shopping. Do you have somewhere to be, Ron?" She asked almost too timidly. 

"Actually Ron, Hermione and I planned to go to the ice cream shop here. Would you like to come?" I asked, intervening with this pitiful attempt of her trying to hangout with him. If I was going to be here for a while, I'm going to make sure Hermione ends up with the guy she wants. 

"I'm so hungry, let's go. Ginny, look there's mum and the twins. Go on now, get." He said quickly, motioning for us to go to Florean's without her. She scowled and began to open her mouth to object. It took everything in Hermione and I to hold back laughter. 

"Oh, Ron! Why didn't you tell us Hermione was here with you and Ginny? And the exchange student!" Shouted a motherly voice. We all turned around to see a sweet woman, short and plump. Ron clenched his eyes shut and inhaled sharply.

"Mum! We are going to hangout at Florean's, can you please tell Ginny to go?!" He asked passively.

"Oi, Ron don't be a hog! What did we exchange to get her?" Shouted a voice to my side. 

"Yeah, Ron, sharing is caring!" Shouted another to my other side. 

It was most definitely the twins that Ron spoke of earlier. Except, they resembled their mother more than they resembled Ron. They had chocolate brown eyes, they were just as freckly, and were bit more stockier than lanky, but equally as cute as Ron. Their mother didn't think so though, after their comments towards me they ended up being pulled by their ears to be scolded at. I didn't miss the simultaneous grins and winks from them right before they were pulled away. 

"Fred, George, that is NO way to speak to a young woman. You're both going to be smacked one day, I hope you both do." She said sternly. "Oh dear, I'm so sorry for that! You must be (Y/N)! How lovely to meet you, it's going to be so nice having more girls around! Come along now boys, Ginny, let them go get ice cream, (Y/N) is welcome to the Burrow any time she pleases, she's not gone forever. Come on!" And with that last berating remark, she was off with Ron's siblings. 

"I tried to get you guys away before the mental ones came, I really did." Ron said annoyed, and Hermione and I finally letting our controlled laughter out.

"Your mom is so sweet! And so is Ginny! I liked them a lot, actually. You big meanie." I said towards him. 

"Try living with the monsters, that'll teach ya." He said rolling his eyes. 

"Ronald! Don't talk about your mother like that!" Hermione said while reaching up to flick him on the head. Causing both of us to laugh and peddlers to give us weird looks.

We quickly made it to Florean's and entered the shop. The hum of the freezers and neon lights filling up the moment of silence. The confectionery smell felt comforting immediately. Though, the temperature in the ice cream shop did make me regret wearing a sundress. We all went towards the menu against the back wall and began discussing what flavors we wanted. Right before we began to order Ron said something quite interesting.

"Hermione, I completely forgot! You know how dad works for ministry! Harry's in trouble for using magic at home!" Ron exclaimed towards us.

"What? Why was he using magic? Is he expelled?"She asked worriedly.

"Dad didn't know too much but 'pparently he blew up his aunt and she started flying off, but he said the Minister himself didn't care all that much. Must be the "Harry Potter" luck, huh?" He asked, almost slightly with bitterness. 

I turned to him with a questioning look but he shrugged it off with a light-hearted smile and continued to listen to Hermione worry about the friend I had yet to meet. 

Third Person POV

The three sat right outside Florean Fortescue's at a small cafe table. All the shopping bags were discarded around them like a barricade away from any other customers at Florean's. Ron, Hermione, and (Y/N) were devouring chocolate and raspberry ice cream sundaes that were topped with fudge and nuts as the summer heat glared down. Each talked about what they had done that summer, Ron with Egypt, Hermione with France and meeting (Y/N). Suddenly Ron came to a halt while speaking.

"Harry! HARRY! HARRY!" He blared out towards a broom shop.

The raven haired boy turned quickly from the broomstick ad to see the three. He adjusted his glasses to see better. It was two girls looking extremely bronzed with an incredibly freckly ginger peering over ice creams at him. One of the girls he didn't recognize at all, she had to have been the girl Hermione wrote about housing. She was a striking girl he had to admit. She had shoulder length hair similar to Hermione's, but definitely different in texture. Her eyes seemed to resemble someone dehydrated who had just been offered something to drink; they were interested in everyone and everything passing by, causing her gaze to be intense and absorb everything in view. Even her clothes and way of sitting was very different than Hermione's. She was in a white, flowy sundress whereas Hermione was in baggy, brown shorts and a white tank. Harry had tried not to stare at the newcomer while walking, but he managed only slightly. He was thinking about how painfully wonky his arms looked moving by his side as he walked.

As Harry made his way over, Hermione had pulled a chair between her and the new girl, who sat rather close to Ron. 

"Finally!" said Ron, grinning at Harry as he sat down. "We have been everywhere today, I wasn't about to chase you down. How has the Leaky Cauldron been treating you?" 

"How come you knew I was staying at the Leaky Cauldron?" Harry asked.

"Dad," said Ron simply. Mr. Weasley, who worked at the Ministry of Magic, would of course have heard the whole story of what had happened to Aunt Marge. 

"Did you really blow up your aunt, Harry?" Hermione asked in a very serious voice.

"I didn't mean to," said Harry, while Ron and the girl beside him roared with laughed. He felt his stomach churn at the thought that they were laughing at him, not with him. "I just—lost control." Harry finished.

"It's not funny, Ron and (Y/N)," said Hermione sharply. "Honestly, I'm amazed Harry wasn't expelled."

"So am I," admitted Harry. "Forget expelled, I thought I was going to be arrested." He looked at Ron. "Your dad doesn't know why Fudge let me off, does he?" 

"Probably 'cause it's you, isn't it?" shrugged Ron still chucking with the girl addressed as (Y/N). "Famous Harry Potter and all that. I'd hate to see what the Minstry'd do to me if I blew up an aunt. Mind you, they'd have to dig me up first, because Mum would've killed me. Anyway, you can ask Dad yourself this evening. We're staying at the Leaky Cauldron too! So you can come to King's Cross with us tomorrow! Hermione and (Y/N)'s there as well! 

Hermione nodded, beaming. "Mum and Dad dropped her and I off this morning with our Hogwarts things!" 

"Excellent!" said Harry happily, very aware that the girl's bare knee brushed against his as she adjusted her bowl of finished icecream. "Have you all got your books and stuff?" As they all turned to look at him, (Y/N) mostly staring. 

"Look at these," said Ron pulling out two long boxes out of a bag and opening them. "(Y/N) and I both got wands, mine is fourteen inches, willow, unicorn tail-hair." He began handing the other wand to her, but as (Y/N) pulled her arm back holding the wand, it knocked the ice cream straight into Harry's chest.

"Harry, your shirt! I'm so sorry!" (Y/N) exclaimed, the first time she's spoken to him since he arrived. 

"No! It's fine, it's my cousin's, don't even worry about it!" He said quickly, not wanting her to feel embarrassed from their first interaction. She quickly took the napkins Ron offered her and thanked him just before handing them to Harry, their fingertips brushing slightly. Harry didn't miss that, or the way Ron's ears and cheeks tinged pink. 

"Still, sorry again!" She said, cringing at the situation. (Y/N) continued to look at Harry cleaning the ice cream off, hoping it would come out. He decided to change the subject. 

"Hermione, what's all that? Why do you have triple the amount of books they do?" Harry asked pointing at not one, but three bulging bags in the other chair next to her and Ron.

"Well, I'm taking more new subjects than you, aren't I?" said Hermione. "Those are my books for Arithmancy, Care of Magical Creatures, Divination, the Study of Ancient Runes, Muggle Studies—"

"What are you doing Muggle Studies for?" said Ron, rolling his eyes at Harry and (Y/N). "You're muggle-born! Your mum and dad are muggles! You already know all about muggles!" 

"But it'll be fascinating to study them from the wizarding point of view." Hermione said earnestly.

"Are you planning to eat or sleep at all this year, Hermione?" asked Harry, while Ron sniggered and (Y/N) turned towards Ron to hide her growing smile from Hermione. Hermione ignored them all.

"(Y/N) and I still have galleons to spend, it's our birthday money, hers from August and mine for September." Hermione said.

"How about a nice book?" asked Ron in innocently. Harry and (Y/N) let out a stifled laugh. 

"'No. I don't think so." said Hermione composedly. "I really want an owl. (Y/N) doesn't have a familiar either. I mean Harry's got Hedwig and you've got Errol—"

"I haven't," said Ron. Errol's a family owl. All I've got is Scabbers." He pulled his pet rat out of his pocket. (Y/N) suddenly scooted to her left, closer to Harry as the rat scurried towards her out of his hand. Ron quickly scooped him back up. "I need to get him checked over, I don't think Egypt agreed with him at all."

"There's a magical creature shop just over there," Harry intervened, knowing Diagon Alley very well by now. "You could see if they've got anything for Scabbers, and Hermione and (Y/N) can get their pets."

The group made off to the Magical Menagerie in hopes of finding the girls familiars for their third year. 

Once they reached the shop, there wasn't that much room inside. The shop was cramped and smelly. Every inch of the wall was hidden by cages and glass tanks. There was a pair of enormous purple roads gulping and feasting on bowflies, a gigantic tortoise with a jewel-encrusted shell glittering near a window, and poisonous orange snails oozing slow lit up their aquariums. The confined pet store was screaming with squeaking, squawking, jabbering, and hissing. As Ron and Harry traveled to a wizard advising the rat area, Hermione and (Y/N) made their way upstairs to the familiar appointing area. 

A small, plump lady came towards the adolescents asking, "Are you here to summon a familiar for your years of studying at Hogwarts?" Both girls nodded.

"Yes, how do we summon our familiars?" Hermione asked quizzically.

"For 12 galleons each, you drink from this vial—" the lady said as she pulled out clear potion bottle containing a swirling sky blue mixture. "This is a diluted exstimulo to heighten your powers desired by familiars. After you take that, you prick your finger and give a sample to your own vials and I put them into the selector. Hurry up now." She said handing them to us. 

Hermione and (Y/N) made quick eye contact before downing their separate potions. Both scrunched their eyes and noses at the metallic taste before pricking their fingers on sanitized equipment. Once both gave their sample and the witch left, they waited patiently at the area until their familiars came to them. 

First was Hermione's, it was a ginger cat, with thick and fluffy fur. The cat had a squashed, grumpy face and it seemed to be bowlegged. It quickly began to purr once it reached her, so she sat down and allowed it into her lap. 

"Crookshanks? That's a lovely name." She said. (Y/N) was a bit confused at first, but knew that familiars and witches had a bond where they could communicate. 

(Y/N)'s was next, when she turned away from Hermione and Crookshanks she was met with hazel feline eyes. Her familiar was a Maine Coon cat. The cat was distinguished with immensely long black, white, and grey fur. It had piercing eyes. The name Orion was quickly communicated to (Y/N).

Right when (Y/N) had moved her hand to pet Orion, she heard Ron screech "OUCH!" quickly before Hermione had shouted "NO, CROOKSHANKS, NO!"


	3. iii. Dementors and Dungeons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You can see opposition and imposition or you can see an opportunity. As a part of the Slytherin House, I choose to see opportunity. If you've chosen to see opposition, and I seize your opportunity, I assure you that it is less selfless and more self-serving. In these situations you'll walk away thanking me, but I'll be all the richer for reaping the benefits of my choice, while you will walk away never knowing what you could have had."

Third Person POV

Tom woke Harry the next morning with his usual toothless grin and a cup of tea. Harry got dressed and was just persuading a disgruntled Hedwig to get back into her cage when Ron barged his way into a he room, pulling a sweatshirt over his head and looking irritable. 

"The sooner we get on the train, the better," he said. "At least I can get away from Percy at Hogwarts. Now he's accusing me of dripping tea on his photo of Penelope Clearwater. You know," Ron grimaced, "his girlfriend. She's hidden her face under the frame because her nose has gone all blotchy...." 

"I've got something to tell you," Harry began, but they were interrupted by Fred and George, who had looked in to congratulate Ron on infuriating Percy again.

They headed down to breakfast, where Mr. Weasley was reading the front page of the Daily Prophet with a furrowed brown and Mrs. Weasley was telling Hermione, (Y/N), and Ginny about a love potion she'd made as a young girl. All four of them were rather giggly.

"What were you saying?" Ron asked Harry as they sat down. 

"Later." Harry muttered as Percy stormed in.

Harry had no chance to speak to Ron or Hermione in the chaos of leaving; they were too busy heaving all their trunks down the Leaky Cauldron's narrow staircase and piling them up near the door with Hedwig and Hermes, Percy's screech owl, perched on top in their cages. Two small wickerwork baskets stood beside the heap of trunks, hissing spouted from one basket.

'It's all right, Crookshanks," Hermione cooed through the wickerwork. "I will let you out on the train."

'You won't," snapped Ron. (Y/N) had seemed to intentionally ignore both while checking that she had brought everything down, not wanting to be between their fight like she was previously, in the Magical Menagerie. "What about poor Scabbers, eh?" He pointed towards his chest, indicating that Scabbers was the large lump in his shirt pocket. Both Hermione and (Y/N) seemed to be deaf when he rambled on. Mr. Weasley, who had been outside waiting for the Ministry cars, struck his head inside.

"They're here," he said. "Harry, come on." Mr. Weasley marched Harry across the short stretch of pavement toward the first of two old-fashioned dark green cars, each of which was driven by a furtive-looking wizard wearing a suit of emerald velvet. 

"In you get, Harry," said Mr. Weasley, glancing up and down the crowded street. Harry got into the back of the car and was shortly joined by (Y/N), Hermione, and to Ron's disgust, Percy. The journey to King's Cross was very uneventful compared with Harry's trip on the Knight Bus; minus (Y/N) asking Percy questions to purposely ignite Ron's ever so kind comments. The Ministry of Magic cars seemed almost ordinary. Though, Harry noticed that they could slide through gaps that Uncle Vernon's new company car certainly couldn't have managed. They reached King's Cross with twenty minutes to spare; the Ministry drivers found them trolleys, unloaded their trunks, touched their hats in salute to Mr. Weasley, and drove away, somehow managing to jump to the head of an unmoving line at the traffic lights. Mr. Weasley kept close to Harry's elbow all the way into the station.

"Right then," he said, glancing around them. "Let's do this in pairs, as there are so many of us. I'll go through first with Harry." Mr. Weasley strolled toward the barrier between platforms nine and ten, pushing Harry's trolley and apparently very interested in the InterCity 125 that had just arrived at platform nine. With a meaningful look at Harry, he leaned casually against the barrier. Harry imitated him. In a moment, they had fallen sideways through the solid metal onto the platform nine and three-quarters and looked up to see the Hogwarts Express, a scarlet steam engine, puffing smoke over a platform packed with witches and wizards seeing their children onto the train.

Percy and Ginny suddenly appeared behind Harry. They were panting and had apparently taken the barrier at run. Soon, (Y/N), Ron, and Hermione had ran through, the twins following right after. 

"Ah, there is Penelope!" exclaimed Percy, smoothing his hair and going pink again. (Y/N) had caught Harry's eye after the comment, and they both turned away to stifle their laughter as Percy strode over to a girl with long, curly hair, walking with his chest thrown out so that she couldn't miss his shiny badge.

The Hogwarts students had lugged their trunks and pet cages into empty carriages. Then they returned to the bustling platform to say their good-byes. Mrs. Weasley had kissed all her children, then Hermione, surprisingly (Y/N), and finally Harry. He was embarrassed and red in the face, but really quite pleased when she gave him an extra hug. 

"Do take care, won't you Harry?" she said as she straightened up, her eyes oddly bright. "And (Y/N) dear! You are so lovely, it's absolutely wonderful to have more girls, please do stay at the burrow soon!" Then she opened her enormous handbag and said, "I've made you all sandwiches! Here you are, Ron, no, they're not corned beef, Fred? Where's Fred? Here you are dear!" As this was happening, (Y/N) had unintentionally gasped rather loudly, casually ducking off behind Ron and Hermione. She had quickly stared towards whatever caused that reaction, as a wide eyed Hermione stared at the same area.

"Harry," said Mr. Weasley quietly, "Come over here a moment." He jerked his head toward a pillar, and Harry followed him behind it, leaving the others crowded around Mrs. Weasley. "There's something I've got to tell you before you leave—" said Mr. Weasley, in a tense voice. 

"It's all right, Mr. Weasley," said Harry. "I already know." 

"You know? How could you know?" He asked surprised.

"I—er—I heard you and Mrs. Weasley talking last night. I couldn't help hearing," Harry added quickly, he had flashbacks towards their arguments on whether or not he should be aware of Sirius Black's escape to come for him. "Sorry."

"That's not the way I'd have chosen for you to find out," said Mr. Weasley, looking anxious. "No, honestly, it's okay. This way I haven't broken my word to Fudge and you know what's going on. Harry, you must be very scared."

"I'm not," said Harry sincerely. "Really," he added, because Mr. Weasley was looking disbelieving. "I'm not trying to be a hero, but seriously, Sirius Black can't be worse the Voldemort, can he?" Mr. Weasley flinched at the sound of the name but overlooked it. 

"Harry, I knew you were, well, made of stronger stuff than Fudge seems to think, and I'm obviously pleased that you're not scared, but—" 

"Arthur!"called Mrs. Weasley, who was now shepherding the rest onto the train. "Arthur, what are you doing? It's about to go!" She yawped irritably.

"He's coming, Molly!" said Mr. Weasley, but he turned back to Harry kept talking in a lower and more hurried voice. "Listen, I want you to give me your word—" 

"That I'll be a good boy and stay in the castle?" said Harry gloomily.

"Not entirely," said Mr. Weasley, who looked more serious than Harry had even seen him. "Harry, swear to me you won't go looking for Black." Harry stared. 

"What?" There was a loud whistle. Guards were talking along the train, slamming all the doors shut. 

"Promise me Harry," said Mr. Weasley, talking more quickly still, "That whatever happens—"

"Why would I go looking for someone I know wants to kill me?" said Harry blankly, very unsure as to why Mr. Weasley would think such. 

"Swear to me that whatever you might hear—"

"Arthur, quickly!" Cried Mrs. Weasley. Steam billowed from the train, it had started to move. The engine roared as Harry ran to the compartment door and Ron threw it open and stood back to let him on. Both leaned out the window to wave bye until the train was out of sight from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

"I need to talk to you in private," Harry muttered to Ron and Hermione as the train picked up, not missing (Y/N) murmuring into Hermione's side very anxiously. 

"Go away, Ginny." said Ron, Ginny taking offense and (Y/N) pondering if maybe she should find another group to sit with since he needed to privately share. Hermione picked up on her mental battle and pleaded for her stay through eye contact between her and Harry. 

"Oh! I'd understand if you'd want me to go with Ginny, or wait outside. I can leave." (Y/N) intervened to politely say, even if she'd rather stay and hear what Harry was so anxious about.

"If you tell me yours, I'll tell you mine?" he suggested to (Y/N). "Just promise to keep it between us four, no one else. Please?" She glanced at Hermione for her approval and nodded softly. 

"I promise."

Ron gave Ginny another signal to leave and she scoffed.  
"Oh, that's nice." Ginny said huffily, stalking off. 

The four had then set off down the empty corridor in search of an empty compartment. All of them were completely full, except for one at the very end of the train. The only occupant in this compartment was a man sleeping soundly against the window. They had checked the threshold. The golden trio had never seen an adult in the Hogwarts Express, excluding the witch who who controlled the food trolley. The stranger fast asleep was wearing a set of extremely shabby robes, darned in several places. He did seem exceedingly exhausted, but he was a lot younger in comparison to their older professors. To the girls he could even be described as handsome. His light brown hair was flecked with grays, and light scars decorated his face. 

"Who d'you reckon he is?" Ron hissed while sitting farthest away from the window, noticing the girls admiring the stranger.

"Professor R. J. Lupin," whispered Hermione, not trying to awaken him.

"How'd you know that!?" He asked almost offended and amazed. 

"It's on his case," she replied, pointing at the luggage rack over the man's head, where there was a small and battered case held together by a large quantity of neatly knotted string. His name was stamped across the corner.

"Wonder what he teaches?" said Ron, frowning at Lupin's pallid profile.

"That's obvious," whispered Hermione. "There's only one vacancy, isn't there? Defense Against the Dark Arts of course." They all reminisced the 'cursed' teaching position.

"Well I hope he's up to it," said Ron doubtfully. "He looks like one good hex would finish him off, doesn't he? Anyway-" He turned to Harry and (Y/N), "What were you two going on about?" 

As Hermione and (Y/N) sat beside Ron, Harry sat down next to the new teacher and began, "(Y/N) can go first, I can wait a little longer." So she began. She told the trio about how she was isolated from the wizarding world up until she was eleven, and met Allison. Told them that Allison and her family offered her an inside to the wizarding world and a home when her parents weren't supportive. Then, how one night after she went out, Ali was gone. (Y/N) told them about Charlize and Fiyero, and how they all were some how pinned to whatever happened to Ali and that they were the most ridiculed teens in the school. The thing (Y/N) most feared though was the fact that she saw them at King's Cross. 

"What I'd like to know is why exactly they were boarding the Hogwarts Express; I know it was them from the photos in your room. I just can't figure out why they'd be here when your headmaster at Ilvermorny sent for you all to be at different schools. Did Mr. Fontaine ever say that there was a possibility they'd be with you?" Hermione rambled, clearly confused as you were. "I know none of you had anything to do with your friend's er—disappearance—"she said lightly, not wanting to hurt (Y/N)'s feelings, "but it's just really unsettling they would come here when it is just supposed to be you," she spoke, out of breath.

"They weren't supposed to be here for what reason? Did they take part and you just didn't know about it?" Ron asked suspiciously, peering out of the compartment into the corridor. Hermione, and even Harry, gave Ron a look to shut his mouth quickly.

"It's okay, Ron, I've thought that for a while too. Ero and Ali dated, but they didn't always act too nice towards each other." (Y/N) confirmed. 

They all spoke of their theories as to why her former friends were on this train somewhere, up until Ron heavily asked while turning to Harry, "What were you going to tell us?" 

Harry was a bit uncomfortable at first, a new person added to the group just as a stranger was idly sleeping so close, but he began. He explained Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's argument and the warning Mr. Weasley had just given him. When he finished, Ron looked absolutely thunderstruck, Hermione had her hands over her mouth, and (Y/N ) looked utterly concerned.

Hermione had finally lowered her hands from her mouth, "Sirius Black has escaped to come after you? Oh Harry! You'll have to be really, really careful! Don't go looking for trouble—"

"I don't go looking for trouble," said Harry, nettled. "Trouble usually finds me."

"How thick would Harry have to be to go looking for a nutter who wants to kill him!?" said Ron shakily.

"Well, maybe there's a lot more to the story then we know?" (Y/N) pondered, very keen to figuring out this problem. "Like, if Sirius has a motive that Harry could use as his own? This makes my problems seem so small."

They were all taking the news worse than Harry had anticipated, they all seemed to be more frightened of Black than he was.

"No one knows how he got out of Azkaban," Ron said full of discomfort. "No one has ever done it before, and he was a top security prisoner too!"

"But they'll catch him, won't they?" Hermione spoke earnestly. "They've got muggles looking for him as well—"

"What's that noise?" Ron asked suddenly. Their was a faint, tinny sort of whistle coming from somewhere. They all began to search for the source.

"It's coming from your trunk, Harry." said Ron, standing up and reaching into the luggage rack. A moment later he had pulled the Pocket Sneakoscope out from between Harry's robes. It was spinning very fast in the palm of Ron's hand and glowing brilliantly.

"Is that a Sneakoscope?" said Hermione interestedly, standing up for a better look.

"Yeah...mind you, it's a very cheap one," Ron said. "It went haywire just as I was tying it to Errol's leg to send it to Harry."

"Were you doing anything untrustworthy at the time?" said Hermione shrewdly. (Y/N) cackled at Hermione finally getting a dig at him.

"No! Well...I wasn't supposed to be using Errol. You know he's not really up to long journeys...but how else was I supposed to get Harry's present to him?"

"Stick it back in the trunk," Harry advised as the Sneakoscope whistled piercingly, "or it'll wake him up."

He nodded toward Professor Lupin. Ron stuffed the Sneakoscope into a particularly horrible pair of Uncle Vernon's old socks, which deadened the sound, then closed the lid of the trunk on it.

"We could get it checked in Hogsmeade," said Ron, sitting back down. "They sell that sort of thing in Dervish and Banges, magical instruments and stuff. Fred and George told me."

"Do you know much about Hogsmeade?" asked Hermione keenly. "I've read it's the only entirely non-Muggle settlement in Britain --"

"Yeah, I think it is," said Ron in an offhand sort of way. "but that's not why I want to go. I just want to get inside Honeydukes!"

"What's that?" said Hermione.

"It's this sweetshop," said Ron, a dreamy look coming over his face, "where they've got everything...Pepper Imps -- they make you smoke at the mouth -- and great fat Chocoballs full of strawberry mousse and clotted cream, and really excellent sugar quills, which you can suck in class and just look like you're thinking what to write next—"

"But Hogsmeade's a very interesting place, isn't it?" Hermione pressed on eagerly. (Y/N) rolled her eyes, she was much more interested in the sweets. "In Sites of Historical Sorcery it says the inn was the headquarters for the 1612 goblin rebellion, and the Shrieking Shack's supposed to be the most severely haunted building in Britain—"

"—But think about all of the clothes the shops will have! And how much nicer they'll be coming from wizard designers." (Y/N) added. "I'd love to be able to try on Evelyn Jacobs' diffusion line! Enchanted has such beautiful attire!"

"—and massive sherbet balls that make you levitate a few inches off the ground while you're sucking them," said Ron, who was plainly not listening to a word Hermione was saying.

Hermione looked around at Harry.

"Won't it be nice to get out of school for a bit and explore Hogsmeade?"

"'Spect it will," said Harry heavily. "You'll have to tell me when you've found out."

"What d'you mean?" said Ron.

"I can't go. The Dursleys didn't sign my permission form, and Fudge wouldn't either."

"Wait, we are supposed to have permission forms signed!?"  
(Y/N) asked quickly. "I never received a form!"

Ron looked horrified.

"Neither of you are allowed to come? But -- no way -- McGonagall or someone will give you permission --"

Harry gave a hollow laugh. Professor McGonagall, head of Gryffindor house, was very strict.

"—or we can ask Fred and George, they know every secret passage out of the castle—" 

"Ron!" said Hermione sharply. "(Y/N) doesn't need to get into any more trouble, and I don't think Harry should be sneaking out of the school with Black on the loose—"

"Yeah, I expect that's what McGonagall will say when I ask of permission," said Harry bitterly.

"But if we're with him," said Ron spiritedly to Hermione. "Black wouldn't dare—"

"Oh, Ron, don't talk rubbish," snapped Hermione. "Black's already murdered a whole bunch of people in the middle of a crowded street, do you really think he's going to worry about attacking Harry just because we're there?"

She was fumbling with the straps of Crookshanks's basket as she spoke. Hermione eyed (Y/N)'s cat, who slept soundly between her and Ron.

"Don't let that thing out!" Ron said, but too late; Crookshanks leapt lightly from the basket, stretched, yawned, and sprang onto Ron's knees; the lump in Ron's pocket trembled and he shoved Crookshanks angrily away, waking up Orion.

"Get out of it!"

"Ron, don't!" said Hermione angrily.

Ron was about to answer back when Professor Lupin stirred. The four watched him apprehensively, but he simply turned his head the other way, mouth slightly open, and slept on.

The Hogwarts Express moved steadily north and the scenery outside the window became wilder and darker while the clouds overhead thickened overhead. People were chasing backwards and forwards past the door of their compartment. Crookshanks had now settled in an empty seat, his squashed face turned towards Ron, his yellow eyes on Ron's top pocket.

At one o'clock the plump witch with the food cart arrived at the compartment door.

D'you think we should wake him up?" Ron asked awkwardly, nodding towards Professor Lupin. "He looks like he could do with some food."

Hermione and (Y/N) approached Professor Lupin cautiously.

"Er -- Professor?" Hermione said. "Excuse me -- Professor?"

"Uh—sir? Professor Lupin?" (Y/N) asked a bit more loudly.

He didn't move.

"Don't worry, dear," said the witch, as she handed a large stack of cauldron cakes. "If he's hungry when he wakes, I'll be up front with the driver."

"I suppose he is asleep?" said Ron quietly, as the witch slid the compartment door closed. "I mean—he hasn't died, has he?"

"No, no, he's breathing," whispered Hermione, taking the cauldron cakes Harry had passed her and (Y/N).

He might not be very good company, but Professor Lupin's presence in their compartment had its uses. Mid-afternoon, just as it had started to rain, blurring the rolling hills outside the window, they heard footsteps outside in the corridor again, and their three least favorite people appeared at the door: Draco Malfoy, flanked by his cronies, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle.

As Hermione had explained before, Draco Malfoy and Harry had been enemies ever since they had met on their very first journey to Hogwarts. Malfoy, who had a pale, pointed, sneering face, was in Slytherin house; he played Seeker on the Slytherin Quidditch team, the same position that Harry played on the Gryffindor team. Crabbe and Goyle seemed to exist to do Malfoy's bidding. They were both wide and muscly; Crabbe was taller, with a pudding-bowl haircut and a very thick neck; Goyle had short, bristly hair and long, gorilla arms.

"Well, look who it is," said Malfoy in his usual lazy drawl, pulling open the compartment door. "Potty and the Weasel."

Crabbe and Goyle chuckled trollishly, staring at the new student more than the new teacher. They looked as if they have been offered an all-you-can-eat platter of sweets.

"I heard your father finally got his hands on some gold this summer, Weasley," said Malfoy. "Did your mother die of shock or too much food?"

Ron stood up so quickly he knocked Crookshanks's basket to the floor. Professor Lupin gave a obnoxious snort.

"Who's that?" said Malfoy, taking an automatic step backward as he spotted Lupin. Malfoy finally gazed over at (Y/N) and his face contorted into an expression Harry had never seen on him. "—and what's that taking up more space?" he hissed at her rudely. 

"New teacher," said Harry, who got to his feet shielding (Y/N) from Malfoy's peripheral, too, in case he needed to hold Ron back. "What were you saying, Malfoy?"

Malfoy's pale eyes narrowed; he wasn't fool enough to pick a fight right under a teacher's nose.

"C'mon," he muttered resentfully to Crabbe and Goyle, and they disappeared.

Harry and Ron sat down again, Ron massaging his knuckles.

"I'm not going to take any crap from Malfoy this year," he said angrily. "I mean it. If he makes one more crack about my family, I'm going to get hold of his head and—"

Ron made a violent gesture in midair.

"Ron," hissed Hermione, pointing at Professor Lupin, "be careful..."

"No, I agree with Ron. I don't like him one bit, he definitely would deserve anything coming at him!" (Y/N) spoke.

Professor Lupin was still fast asleep.

The rain thickened as the train sped yet farther north; the windows were now a solid, shimmering gray, which gradually darkened until lanterns flickered into life all along the corridors and over the luggage racks. The train rattled, the rain hammered, the wind roared, but still, Professor Lupin slept.

"We must be nearly there," said Ron, leaning forward to look past Professor Lupin at the now completely black window.

The words had hardly left him when the train started to slow down.

"Great," said Ron, getting up and walking carefully past Professor Lupin to try and see outside. "I'm starving. I want to get to the feast..."

"We can't be there yet," said Hermione, checking her watch.

"So why're we stopping?"

The train was getting slower and slower. As the noise of the pistons fell away, the wind and rain sounded louder than ever against the windows.

Harry, who was nearest the door, got up to look into the corridor. All along the carriage, heads were sticking curiously out of their compartments.

The train came to a stop with a jolt, and distant thuds and bangs told them that luggage had fallen out of the racks. Then, without warning, all the lamps went out and they were plunged into total darkness.

"What's going on?" said Ron's voice from behind Harry.

"Ouch!" gasped Hermione. "Ron, that was my foot!" (Y/N) snickered at them.

Harry felt his way back to his seat, grabbing a hold of someone's shoulder unintentionally . Not thinking too much he murmured a quick sorry.

"It's okay, I don't mind. Just take me on a date first—" whispered a very entertained (Y/N). The knowledge Harry had gotten that he just groped a girl's shoulder in the dark he didn't know too well caused his face to burn hot. 

"D'you think we've broken down?"

"Dunno..."

There was a squeaking sound, and Harry saw the dim black outline of Ron, wiping a patch clean on the window and peering out.

"There's something moving out there," Ron said. "I think people are coming aboard..."

The compartment door suddenly opened and someone fell painfully over Harry's legs into (Y/N)'s lap. 

"Sorry! D'you know what's going on? Ouch! Sorry --"

"Hullo, Neville," said Harry, feeling around in the dark and pulling Neville up by his cloak.

"Harry? Is that you? Who else did I just fall on!? What's happening?"

"Yes. New student. No idea! Sit down --"

There was a loud hissing and a yelp of pain; Neville had tried to sit on Crookshanks.

"I'm going to go and ask the driver what's going on," came Hermione's voice. Harry felt her pass him, heard the door slide open again, and then a thud and two loud squeals of pain.

"Who's that?" 

"Who's that?"

"Ginny?"

"Hermione?"

"What are you doing?"

"I was looking for Ron --"

"Come in and sit down --"

"Not here!" said Harry hurriedly. "I'm here!" 

"Scoot over!" 

"That's my lap, (Y/N). Move!" Ron screeched.

"Sorry!" squeaked an embarrassed (Y/N).

"Ouch!" said Neville.

"Quiet!" said a hoarse voice suddenly.

Professor Lupin appeared to have woken up at last. Harry could hear movements in his corner.

None of them spoke.

There was a soft, crackling noise, and a shivering light filled the compartment. Professor Lupin appeared to be holding a handful of flames. They illuminated his tired, gray face, but his eyes looked alert and wary.

"Stay where you are." he said in the same hoarse voice, and he got slowly to his feet with his handful of fire held out in front of him.

But the door slid slowly open before Lupin could reach it.

Standing in the doorway, illuminated by the shivering flames in Lupin's hand, was a cloaked figure that towered to the ceiling. Its face was completely hidden beneath its hood. Harry's eyes darted downward, and what he saw made his stomach contract. There was a hand protruding from the cloak and it was glistening, grayish, slimy-looking, and scabbed, like something dead that had decayed in water. But it was visible only for a split second. As though the creature beneath the cloak sensed Harry's gaze, the hand was suddenly withdrawn into the folds of its black cloak. And then the thing beneath the hood, whatever it was, drew a long, slow, rattling breath, as though it were trying to suck something more than air from its surroundings. An intense cold swept over them all. Harry felt his own breath catch in his chest. The cold went deeper than his skin. It was inside his chest, it was inside his very heart. Harry's eyes rolled up into his head. He couldn't see. He was drowning in cold. There was a rushing in his ears as though of water. He was being dragged downward, the roaring growing louder...And then, from far away, he heard screaming, terrible, terrified, pleading screams. He wanted to help whoever it was, he tried to move his arms, but couldn't...a thick white fog was swirling around him, inside him—

As Harry dropped to the floor, (Y/N) and Hermione caught his head before it smacked against the compartment floor.

"Harry! Harry! Are you all right?"

Someone was slapping his face.

"W-what?"

Harry opened his eyes; there were lanterns above him, and the floor was shaking -- the Hogwarts Express was moving again and the lights had come back on. He seemed to have slid out of his seat onto the floor. Ron, (Y/N) and Hermione were hovering over his face, and above them he could see Neville and Professor Lupin watching. Harry felt very sick; when he put up his hand to push his glasses back on, he felt cold sweat on his face.

Ron, (Y/N), and Hermione heaved him back onto his seat.

"Are you okay?" Ron asked nervously.

"Yeah," said Harry, looking quickly toward the door. The hooded creature had vanished. "What happened? Where's that —that thing? Who screamed?"

"No one screamed," said Ron, more nervously still.

"We tried to catch you before you dropped, but—did you hit your head, Harry?" (Y/N) asked.

Harry looked around the bright compartment. Ginny and Neville looked back at him, both very pale.

"But I heard screaming—"

A loud snap made them all jump. Professor Lupin was breaking an enormous slab of chocolate into pieces.

"Here," he said to Harry, handing him a particularly large piece. "Eat it. It'll help."

Harry took the chocolate but didn't eat it.

"What was that thing?" he asked Lupin.

"A Dementor," said Lupin, who was now giving chocolate to everyone else. "One of the Dementors of Azkaban."

Everyone stared at him. Professor Lupin crumpled up the empty chocolate wrapper and put it in his pocket. Scanning over everyone, stopping at (Y/N) for a split second. He turned back to Harry.

"Eat," he repeated. "It'll help. I need to speak to the driver, excuse me..."

He strolled past Harry and disappeared into the corridor.

"Are you sure you're okay, Harry?" said Hermione, watching Harry anxiously.

"I don't get it ... what happened?" said Harry, wiping more sweat off his face.

"Well—that thing —the Dementor—stood there and looked around—I mean, I think it did, I couldn't see its face—and you —you—" Hermione struggled out. 

"I thought you were having a fit or something," said Ron, who still looked scared. "You went sort of rigid and fell out of your seat and started twitching—"

"And Professor Lupin stepped over you, and walked towards the Dementor, and pulled out his wand," said (Y/N), "and he said, 'None of us is hiding Sirius Black under our cloaks. Go.' But the Dementor didn't move, so Lupin muttered something, and a silvery thing shot out of his wand at it, and it turned around and sort of glided away..."

"It was horrible," said Neville, in a higher voice than usual. "Did you feel how cold it got when it came in?"

"I felt weird," said Ron, shifting his shoulders uncomfortably. "Like I'd never be cheerful again..."

Ginny, who was huddled in her corner looking nearly as bad as Harry felt, gave a small sob; Hermione and (Y/N) went over and put a comforting arm around her.

"But didn't any of you—fall off your seats?" said Harry awkwardly.

"No," said Ron, looking anxiously at Harry again. "Ginny was shaking like mad, though—(Y/N) looked like she was about to hurl." (Y/N) sent him a glare.

Harry didn't understand. He felt weak and shivery, as though he were recovering from a bad bout of flu; he also felt the beginnings of shame. Why had he gone to pieces like that, when no one else had?

Professor Lupin had come back. He paused as he entered, looked around, and said, with a small smile, "I haven't poisoned that chocolate, you know."

Harry took a bite and to his great surprise felt warmth spread suddenly to the tips of his fingers and toes.

"We'll be at Hogwarts in ten minutes," said Professor Lupin. "Are you all right, Harry?"

Harry didn't ask how Professor Lupin knew his name.

"Fine," he muttered, embarrassed at the scene he caused.

They didn't talk much during the remainder of the journey. At long last, the train stopped at Hogsmeade station, and there was a great scramble to get outside; owls hooted, cats meowed, and Neville's pet toad croaked loudly from under his hat. It was freezing on the tiny platform; rain was driving down in icy sheets.

"Firs' years this way!" called a familiar voice. Harry, Ron, and Hermione turned and saw the gigantic outline of Hagrid at the other end of the platform, beckoning the terrified-looking new students forward for their traditional journey across the lake.

"You guys aren't going to make me go with the first years are you? I don't want to sit with eleven years olds. . ." (Y/N) said warily. Hermione began to speak, but Ron interrupted.

" 'Course not. Come with us." 

"All right, you three?" Hagrid yelled over the heads of the crowd. They waved at him, but had no chance to speak to him because the mass of people around them was shunting them away along the platform. Harry, Ron, (Y/N), and Hermione followed the rest of the school along the platform and out onto a rough mud track, where at least a hundred stagecoaches awaited the remaining students, each pulled, Harry could only assume, by an invisible horse, because when they climbed inside and shut the door, the coach set off all by itself, bumping and swaying in procession.

The coach smelled faintly of mold and straw. Harry felt better since the chocolate, but still weak. Ron and Hermione kept looking at him sideways, as though frightened he might collapse again. (Y/N) whispered to him reassuringly that he had nothing to be ashamed of.

As the carriage trundled toward a pair of magnificent wrought iron gates, flanked with stone columns topped with winged boars, Harry saw two more towering, hooded Dementors, standing guard on either side. A wave of cold sickness threatened to engulf him again; he leaned back into the lumpy seat and closed his eyes until they had passed the gates. The carriage picked up speed on the long, sloping drive up to the castle; Hermione was leaning out of the tiny window, watching the many turrets and towers draw nearer. At last, the carriage swayed to a halt, and Hermione, (Y/N), and Ron got out.

As Harry stepped down, a drawling, delighted voice sounded in his ear.

"You fainted, Potter? Is Longbottorn telling the truth? You actually fainted?"

Malfoy elbowed past Hermione to block Harry's way up the stone steps to the castle, his face gleeful and his pale eyes glinting maliciously; especially when he glanced at (Y/N). The satisfaction Malfoy felt when he found out 'Potty' fainted in front of his new friend sent him over the moon. "Your pet fire-breathing chicken scares me." He said while motioning to (Y/N), who was growing to hate him more than the trio combined. Hermione quickly pulled her back as she started towards the blond.

"What the f—" came from (Y/N), but she was immediately muffled by her friend.

"Shove off, Malfoy!" said Ron, whose jaw was clenched.

"Did you faint as well, Weasley?" said Malfoy loudly. "Did the scary old Dementor frighten you too, Weasley?"

"Is there a problem?" said a mild voice. Professor Lupin had just gotten out of the next carriage.

Malfoy gave Professor Lupin an insolent stare, which took in the patches on his robes and the dilapidated suitcase. With a tiny hint of sarcasm in his voice, he said, "Oh, no—er—Professor," then he smirked at Crabbe and Goyle and led them up the steps into the castle.

Hermione prodded Ron in the back to make him hurry, and the three of them joined the crowd swarming up the steps, through the giant oak front doors, into the cavernous Entrance Hall, which was lit with flaming torches, and housed a magnificent marble staircase that led to the upper floors.

The door into the Great Hall stood open at the right; Harry followed the crowd toward it, but had barely glimpsed the enchanted ceiling, which was black and cloudy tonight, when a voice called, "Potter! Granger! I want to see you both!"

Harry and Hermione turned around, surprised. Professor McGonagall, Transfiguration teacher and head of Gryffindor House, was calling over the heads of the crowd. She was a stern looking witch who wore her hair in a tight bun; her sharp eyes were framed with square spectacles. Harry fought his way over to her with a feeling of foreboding: Professor McGonagall had a way of making him feel he must have done something wrong.

"There's no need to look so worried -- I just want a word in my office," she told them. "Move along there, Weasley." She looked towards (Y/N) caught off guard, "Who is this?"

"The transfer from Ilvermorny." (Y/N) spoke.

"Oh—alright then. Wait outside the great hall's entrance with the other transfers to be sorted. It's another chamber. Hogwarts is pleased to have you." 

Ron stared as Professor McGonagall ushered Harry and Hermione away from the chattering crowd; they accompanied her across the entrance hall, up the marble staircase, and along a corridor.

"Here, I'll take you, the sorting isn't too bad here. Don't be nervous."

(Y/N)'s POV

Ron had made sure I got to the closed off chamber full of first years, and started off towards the great hall leaving me all alone. I had began to feel sick to my stomach. House sortings are always done in front of schools, and I should've prepared myself mentally. The murmuring of first years, filled with anxious ideas of what the sorting process would be, didn't help whatsoever. 

The humongous man that Hermione had referred to as Hagrid was barely managing to tell us of the sorting process. He himself was super anxious, this must have been his first year in this position.

"Now, er—form a line! And then you'll be sorted into one the four houses!" He had finished 

Me and the terrified first years quickly lined up and marched towards the entrance. When we made it in I was speechless.

I had never even imagined such a strange and splendid place. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. It could only be described as magical. 

Where the line began, across from it was a four-legged stool with a pointed wizard's hat perched on top. The hat looked extremely dirty and frayed. I realized many of the already sorted students, sat staring at either the hat, or me, sticking out like a sore thumb compared to the little eleven year olds. 

The large rip near the brim of the hat began to sing:

"𝘖𝘩, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘐'𝘮 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺,  
𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘫𝘶𝘥𝘨𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘦𝘦,  
𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥  
𝘈 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘮𝘦.  
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬,  
𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘴 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘭,  
𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘐'𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘏𝘰𝘨𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘚𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘏𝘢𝘵  
𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘤𝘢𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘢𝘭𝘭.  
𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥  
𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘏𝘢𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦,  
𝘚𝘰 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶  
𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦.  
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘎𝘳𝘺𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘳,  
𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵,  
𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘺 𝘚𝘦𝘵 𝘎𝘳𝘺𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵;  
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘏𝘶𝘧𝘧𝘭𝘦𝘱𝘶𝘧𝘧,  
𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘺𝘢𝘭,  
𝘛𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘏𝘶𝘧𝘧𝘭𝘦𝘱𝘶𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘯𝘢𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘰𝘪𝘭;  
𝘖𝘳 𝘺𝘦𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘙𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘸,  
𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥,  
𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨,  
𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥;  
𝘖𝘳 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘚𝘭𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯  
𝘠𝘰𝘶'𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴,  
𝘛𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘤𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘬 𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘴  
𝘛𝘰 𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴.  
𝘚𝘰 𝘱𝘶𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘯! 𝘋𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘥!  
𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘧𝘭𝘢𝘱!  
𝘠𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘢𝘧𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 (𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘦)  
𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘐'𝘮 𝘢 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘊𝘢𝘱!"

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," spoke Hagrid. 

In this moment, I didn't feel quick-witted, brave, or anything the hat was asking for. I felt like I needed to run to the bathroom. As minutes passed, I noticed houses were not given to students immediately, it took a few seconds for the hat to decide. I hadn't really payed attention to the students, just the the reactions from the houses that were seated.

Until I heard, "Madley, Charlize. She's an Ilvermorny transfer, third year student." She says down and made fearful eye contact with me, I was concerned as to why she was at Hogwarts, but I smiled back and hoped she was okay. 

"Hufflepuff!" The hat shouted, causing the Hufflepuff table to react happily.

Then the unknown first years being sorted began again. 

I felt a firm arm wrap around my torso and the words, "Did you miss me?" from a too familiar voice. I quickly whipped my head around and pushed the boy off. 

"What the fuck are you doing? Don't touch me!" I whisper shouted. I took in his appearance, he looked plain in the Hogwarts uniforms. He also cut his hair off.

"Oh? Not too friendly now, I see. Watch your language." He laughed sarcastically. "What house are you hoping for?" He asked persistently. I turned to see if anyone was watching us, just in case Fiyero was planning to drag me away into the forest to murder me. Ron caught my eye and looked incredibly worried. He continued to observe as I turned away. 

"Any that you aren't in. You aren't supposed to be here. They gave us different school's to pick." I said rudely. "You should've went to Durmstrang."

"You noticed that too, birdy?" He taunted, using my old house's nickname. "It's like they wanted us separated, not sure why you're acting too good for us now." I ignored him, moving closer up the line. He gripped my arm left arm.

"Don't be like that—"

"(L/N), (Y/N). She's an Ilvermorny transfer, third year student." 

I yanked my arm from him and started off towards the stool, ignoring the strange glances. As I sat down, my stomach dropped. I realized that the four tables were filled with what seemed hundreds of students. The majority of students were craning their necks to get a good look at me. I looked towards Ron again, not knowing anyone else, and he gave me a large, toothy smile while giving me a thumbs up. I searched for Hermione, but she was still gone. 

The gnarly hat was sat on top of my head and began speaking a little too loudly for my liking. 

"Hmmmmmm, interesting. Very, very interesting. It's been a long while since I've had your blood up here. This is going to be difficult. A good 'ole heart of gold, such an erudite person, powerful—yes. This is the second person who's came in here, needing to prove themself. Born out of self preservation. . ." 

Five minutes had passed, and the hat still sat on top of my head. A lot of the students were whispering about a 'hat stall' and I sunk into the stool more.

"Why do you want to be in Gryffindor? Your friends?" the hat asked. "You could be great, y'know? It's all here in your head." the had said, getting way too loud. "Slytherin would help you on the path to greatness, you've got that ambition. Would you do anything to be placed in Gryffindor?" Yes. "Hmmmmmm, difficult. Too difficult."

I started to become aware of all the students staring, so many people reaching to make eye contact with me. Ten minutes had passed since I've sat in this stupid, under-sized stool

"Better be—" I glanced at all of the tables.

"G-" my eyes locked with the pale-eyed, blond haired boy who was completely rude to me.

"SLYTHERIN!" 

My tie I had changed into on the train switched from plain black, to sliver and emerald green. My robes obtained the Slytherin crest. The table of Slytherin's roared with applause, every student seemed to feel so satisfied they had gotten one of the transfers. 

I made my way to the table quickly, tired of being in front of the entire school. I was enveloped by many hugs from strangers, cheers from underclassmen and upperclassmen.

"Make way! Make way! I'm coming through!" Shouted a very handsome brunet. "I'm Theodore Nott. You quite literally have no one else to sit with, so come with me." He said grabbing my arm.

I was too distracted by the pats on my back and hollering of triumphant Slytherins to decline. 

"Look who Theo has already managed to scare." Called out a darker skinned boy, just as handsome as the brunet. Theodore had placed me between him and the boy who spoke first. 

"Hey, I'm Pansy Parkinson. It's kinda cool you're a transfer, we haven't had any before." A girl across from me spoke, holding out her hand. I took it to shake, her hands were very cold and stiff.

"I'm (Y/N)." I responded to the dark-haired girl. 

"We know, newbie." Said another dark-haired girl.

"Oh, don't mind Astoria, she hates when prettier girls get the attention. I'm Blaise Zabini." the dark-skinned boy spoke, making me more comfortable. "Theo wanted to snatch you up before Flint got ahold of you." Blaise had said, motioning towards a boy gawking at me with a very protruding overbite. 

I realized that the boy Theodore had brought me to the area of the table closest to the Malfoy boy that antagonized my first friends here. He was only a few seats from Astoria. 

"So, (Y/N), where are you from?" Theodore spoke, I realized they had wanted to see if I was from a nomaj family. Hermione had told me so much of their blood-purist ideas, so I wasn't about to disclose the fact I'm what they would call muggle-born. Ali had let me into everything, so I grew up with magical society. It shouldn't hard.

"Well, I'm from the village Sweetwater, in Texas. But Ilvermorny is enchanted in Massachusetts so we have been there ever since school." I spoke, confidently.

"I love your American accent!" Pansy admitted. 

"Really? I love all of the ones here. And there isn't just one, it's an assortment." 

"I've heard that American girls usually find English the most attractive, is that so?" Theodore said cockily. 

"Shut up, Theo!" Pansy screeched, but I laughed and turned from him. 

"I reckon we'd better introduce you to everyone?" Blaise asked politely. 

I smiled and nodded in response, Hermione spoke of the Slytherins with such distaste. I was a bit confused as to why.

"RAVENCLAW!" the hat shouted as Fiyero came off the stool.

"So, tell me everything I need to know!" I said to Pansy across from me. Theo and Blaise both joined in, wanting to make sure I missed nothing.

Third Person POV

"Oh," said Hermione softly, "we've missed (Y/N)'s sorting!"

Professor McGonagall strode off toward her empty seat at the staff table, and Harry and Hermione set off in the other direction, as quietly as possible, toward the Gryffindor table. People looked around at them as they passed along the back of the hall, and a few of them pointed at Harry. Had the story of his collapsing in front of the Dementor traveled that fast?

He and Hermione sat down on either side of Ron, who had saved them seats.

"What was all that about?" he muttered to Harry, very grumpily. 

"Where's (Y/N)!? Ron, tell me about her sorting!"

Ron looked upset and began, "I thought she'd get Hufflepuff. Or even Gryffindor if we were lucky. And the friends you said she had that came here! He got all physical with her right before the sorting, he was pulling her arm and causing a scene!" 

"What friend? He was going what?" Harry asked concerned. 

"Ron, where was she sorted?" Hermione asked sternly. He looked up sorrowfully and glanced at Slytherin's table to see (Y/N) cheerfully fraternizing with Theodore Nott and Pansy Parkinson. The gold platters reflected off of her, lighting up everything about her appearance.

"They're going to tear her apart if they find out she is muggle-born!" Hermione whisper shouted at them.

Harry was going to speak, but at that moment the headmaster stood up to speak, and he broke off.

Professor Dumbledore, though very old, always gave an impression of great energy. He had several feet of long silver hair and beard, half-moon spectacles, and an extremely crooked nose. He was often described as the greatest wizard of the age, but that wasn't why Harry respected him. You couldn't help trusting Albus Dumbledore, and as Harry watched him beaming around at the students, he felt really calm for the first time since the Dementor had entered the train compartment.

"Welcome!" said Dumbledore, the candlelight shimmering on his beard. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to say to you all, and as one of them is very serious, I think it best to get it out of the way before you become befuddled by our excellent feast..."

Dumbledore cleared his throat and continued, "As you will all be aware after their search of the Hogwarts Express, our school is presently playing host to some of the Dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry of Magic business."

He paused, and Harry remembered what Mr. Weasley had said about Dumbledore not being happy with the Dementors guarding the school.

"They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds," Dumbledore continued, "and while they are with us, I must make it plain that nobody is to leave school without permission. Dementors are not to be fooled by tricks or disguises -- or even Invisibility Cloaks," he added blandly, and Harry and Ron glanced at each other. "It is not in the nature of a Dementor to understand pleading or excuses. I therefore warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. I look to the prefects, and our new Head Boy and Girl, to make sure that no student runs afoul of the Dementors," he said.

Percy, who was sitting a few seats down from Harry, puffed out his chest again and stared around impressively. Dumbledore paused again; he looked very seriously around the hall, and nobody moved or made a sound.

"On a happier note," he continued, I am pleased to welcome two new teachers to our ranks this year.

"First, Professor Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

There was some scattered, rather unenthusiastic applause. Only those who had been in the compartment on the train with Professor Lupin clapped hard, Harry among them. Professor Lupin looked particularly shabby next to all the other teachers in their best robes.

"Look at Snape!" Ron hissed in Harry's ear. "He looks like he's seen a ghost!"

Professor Snape, the Potions master, was staring along the staff table at Professor Lupin, and then his eyes flickered towards (Y/N) with such disdain, that Harry would feel like a favorite student to him if he was next to her. It was common knowledge that Snape wanted the Defense Against the Dark Arts job, but even Harry, who hated Snape, was startled at the expression twisting his thin, sallow face. it was beyond anger: it was loathing. Harry knew that expression only too well; it was the look Snape wore every time he set eyes on Harry. Harry was very concerned as to why Snape would loathe someone like (Y/N) without any connections or classes with her yet.

"As to our second new appointment," Dumbledore continued as the lukewarm applause for Professor Lupin died away. "Well, I am sorry to tell you that Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, retired at the end of last year in order to enjoy more time with his remaining limbs. However, I am delighted to say that his place will be filled by none other than Rubeus Hagrid, who has agreed to take on this teaching job in addition to his gamekeeping duties."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione stared at one another, stunned. Then they joined in with the applause, which was tumultuous at the Gryffindor table in particular. Harry leaned forward to see Hagrid, who was ruby red in the face and staring down at his enormous hands, his wide grin hidden in the tangle of his black beard.

"We should've known!" Ron roared, pounding the table. "Who else would have assigned us a biting book?"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were the last to stop clapping, and as Professor Dumbledore started speaking again, they saw that Hagrid was wiping his eyes on the tablecloth.

"Well, I think that's everything of importance," said Dumbledore. "Let the feast begin!"

The golden plates and goblets before them filled suddenly with food and drink. Harry, suddenly ravenous, helped himself to everything he could reach and began to eat.

(Y/N) had realized with such elegant silverware and delicious food, she no longer cared for Ilvermorny's bland cooking.

It was a delicious feast; the hall echoed with talk, laughter, and the clatter of knives and forks. Harry, Ron, and Hermione, however, were eager for it to finish so that they could talk to Hagrid and check on (Y/N). They knew how much being made a teacher would mean to him. Hagrid wasn't a fully qualified wizard; he had been expelled from Hogwarts in his third year for a crime he had not committed. It had been Harry, Ron, and Hermione who had cleared Hagrid's name last year. They knew how much (Y/N) would need to be warned, and didn't want to miss her before she ventured down to the brumal hell of Slytherin.

At long last, when the last morsels of pumpkin tart had melted from the golden platters, Dumbledore gave the word that it was time for them all to go to bed, and they got their chance.

"Congratulations, Hagrid!" Hermione squealed as they reached the teachers' table. (Y/N) had left the Slytherin trio and made her way over to Hermione quickly.

"All down ter you three," said Hagrid, wiping his shining face on his napkin as he looked up at them. "Can' believe it...great man, Dumbledore...came straight down to me hut after Professor Kettleburn said he'd had enough...It's what I always wanted—" Hagrid turned to (Y/N). "Why did none of ya introduce me to her!?"

Professor McGonagall shooed them away towards their common rooms after that.

"(Y/N), please be careful. They are crazy about blood status. Do tell us if any of them give you a hard time!" Hermione commanded very protectively.

Before (Y/N) could even respond, Ron and Harry joined in on speaking of dueling anyone who dared messed with her. (Y/N) had endlessly thanked them, but left when her Slytherin friends were waiting to take her to the dungeons. She did need to receive the real common room password and make good with Slytherins that would take her in, so they let her go down to the frosty, piercing place. 

Harry, Ron, and Hermione joined the Gryffindors streaming up the marble staircase and, very tired now, along more corridors, up more and more stairs, to the hidden entrance to Gryffindor Tower, where a large portrait of a fat lady in a pink dress asked them, "Password?"

"Coming through, coming through!" Percy called from behind the crowd. "The new password's Fortuna Major!"

"Oh no," said Neville Longbottom sadly. He always had trouble remembering the passwords.

Through the portrait hole and across the common room, the girls and boys divided toward their separate staircases. Harry climbed the spiral stair with no thought in his head except how glad he was to be back. They reached their familiar, circular dormitory with its five four-poster beds, and Harry, looking around, felt he was home at last.


	4. iii. Trust the Tea Leaves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The cards give you images and symbols to focus your vague intentions and transform them into action. Your will is the magic. In other words, you are the magic. If you can create something in your heart and then act on it to make it happen, that is magic. Very simple, very straightforward—no witches, no spells, and no broomsticks."

Third Person POV

When Harry, Ron, and Hermione entered the Great Hall for breakfast the next day, the first thing they saw was Draco Malfoy, who seemed to be entertaining a large group of Slytherins with a very funny story. As they passed, Malfoy did a ridiculous impression of a swooning fit and there was a roar of laughter. The trio saw a very uncomfortable (Y/N) stuck in the center of the posse.

"Ignore him," said Hermione, who was right behind Harry. "Just ignore him, it's not worth it..." she looked towards (Y/N) giving her a smile, the girl returned it right before getting distracted by Zabini. "Do you think she likes them more. . ."

"Hey, Potter!" shrieked Pansy Parkinson, a Slytherin girl with a face like a pug. "Potter! The Dementors are coming, Potter! Woooooooooo!" (Y/N) turned to the Parkinson girl and narrowed her eyes, speaking very harshly towards the girl as her Slytherin friend's eyes widened in compete shock.

Harry dropped into a seat at the Gryffindor table, next to George Weasley, hoping that Hermione's comment about (Y/N) preferring the Slytherins was wrong and they would stop making fun of him soon.

"New third-year course schedules," said George, passing then, over. "What's up with you, Harry?"

"Malfoy," said Ron, sitting down on George's other side and glaring over at the Slytherin table. George looked up in time to see Malfoy pretending to faint with terror again. (Y/N) had just made her away over to the Gryffindor table after snatching her course schedule from the Slytherin prefect and sat opposing George and Harry, next to Fred.

"That little git," he said calmly. "He wasn't so cocky last night when the Dementors were down at our end of the train. Came running into our compartment."

"Don't know what a git is, but I'll have to agree. It was horrible being stuck in a common room with him, all he did was talk." (Y/N) said, before picking up a piece of toast and munching on it. "He never shuts up when he gets going." Ron laughed.

"Shouldn't you be sitting with your new best friends?" Ron said cooly, referencing her quick friendships.

"I am." She said with a matter-of-fact voice.

"Ooh, George! She missed us, that's why she came back." a very entertained Fred chimed in. "She gets us too, has the right idea on that git. He nearly wet himself."

She rolled her eyes and began picking at the fruit that littered her glittering gold dishes. "I wouldn't worry too much about them, Harry. . ." (Y/N) said motioning towards the group she moved from, "They're very bored with themselves. The dementors are scary to everyone."

"I wasn't too happy myself," said George. "They're horrible things, those Dementors..."

"Sort of freeze your insides, don't they?" said Fred.

"You didn't pass out, though, did you?" said Harry in a low voice, not appreciating the fact that they all thought he feared them.

"Forget it, Harry," said George bracingly. "Dad had to go out to Azkaban one time, remember, Fred? And he said it was the worst place he'd ever been, he came back all weak and shaking...They suck the happiness out of a place, Dementors. Most of the prisoners go mad in there."

"Anyway, we'll see how happy Malfoy looks after our first Quidditch match," said Fred. "Gryffindor versus Slytherin, first game of the season, remember?"

"Quidditch?" (Y/N) asked with a mouthful of berries. Ron looked like he almost fainted.

"You don't know what quidditch is!?" He demanded, "Are you not from a wizard school?"

"We have Quadpot, if you are talking about that?" (Y/N) suggested.

"Quadpot?" Ron asked horrified. They began talking off by themself.

Hermione was examining her new schedule along with Harry's and (Y/N)'s. 

"Ooh, good, we're starting some new subjects today," she said happily.

"Hermione," said Ron, frowning as he looked over her shoulder, "they've messed up your timetable. Look -- they've got you down for about ten subjects a day. There isn't enough time."

"I'll manage. I've fixed it all with Professor McGonagall." Hermione said, "Oh! (Y/N), you have all your classes with Gryffindor! We can stay partnered!" 

"I'd love—"(Y/N) began.

"—But look," said Ron, laughing, "see this morning? Nine o'clock, Divination. And underneath, nine o'clock, Muggle Studies. And --" Ron leaned closer to the timetable, disbelieving, "look -- underneath that, Arithmancy, nine o'clock. I mean, I know you're good, Hermione, but no one's that good. How're you supposed to be in three classes at once?"

"Don't be silly," said Hermione shortly. "Of course I won't be in three classes at once."

"Well then --"

"Pass the marmalade," said Hermione.

"But --"

"Oh, Ron, what's it to you if my timetable's a bit full?" Hermione snapped. "I told you, I've fixed it all with Professor McGonagall."

Just then, Hagrid entered the Great Hall. He was wearing his long moleskin overcoat and was absent-mindedly swinging a dead polecat from one enormous hand.

"All righ'?" he said eagerly, pausing on his way to the staff table. "Yer in my firs' ever lesson! Right after lunch! Bin up since five getting' everthin' ready...hope it's OK...me, a teacher...hones'ly..." Hagrid turned to (Y/N), "Sorry we didn't get a proper introduction."

He grinned broadly at them and headed off to the staff table, still swinging the polecat.

"Wonder what he's been getting ready?" said Ron, a note of anxiety in his voice.

The Hall was starting to empty as people headed off towards their first lesson. Ron checked his and (Y/N)'s schedule.

"We'd better go, look, Divination's at the top of North Tower. It'll take us ten minutes to get there. . ."

They finished breakfast hastily, said goodbye to Fred and George and walked back through the hall. As they passed the Slytherin table, Malfoy did yet another impression of a fainting fit. The shouts of laughter followed Harry into the Entrance Hall. A few of (Y/N)'s new friends gave her questioning, defeated looks for not walking with them.

The journey through the castle to North Tower was a long one. Two years at Hogwarts hadn't taught them everything about the castle, and they had never been inside North Tower before.

"There's—got—to—be—a—short—cut," Ron panted, as they climbed the seventh long staircase and emerged on an unfamiliar landing, where there was nothing but a large painting of a bare stretch of grass hanging on the stone wall.

"I think it's this way," said Hermione, peering down the empty passage to the right.

"Can't be," said Ron. "That's south. Look, you can see a bit of the lake outside the window. . ."

(Y/N) was watching the painting, not accustomed to so many. A fat, dappled-gray pony had just ambled onto the grass and was grazing nonchalantly. A moment later, a short, squat knight in a suit of armour had clanked into the picture after his pony. By the look of the grass stains on his metal knees, he had just fallen off.

"Aha!" he yelled, seeing Harry, Ron, (Y/N), and Hermione. "What villains are these, that trespass upon my private lands! Come to scorn at my fall, perchance? Draw, you knaves, you dogs!"

They watched in astonishment as the little knight tugged his sword out of its scabbard and began brandishing it violently, hopping up and down in rage. But the sword was too long for him; a particularly wild swing made him overbalance, and he landed facedown in the grass.

"Are you all right?" said Harry, moving closer to the picture.

"Get back, you scurvy braggart! Back, you rogue!"

"You need a shorter sword, y'know?" (Y/N) added.

The knight seized his sword again and used it to push himself back up, but the blade sank deeply into the grass and, though he pulled with all his might, he couldn't get it out again. Finally, he had to flop back down onto the grass and push up his visor to mop his sweating face.

"Listen," said Harry, taking advantage of the knight's exhaustion, "we're looking for the North Tower. You don't know the way, do you?"

"A quest!" The knight's rage seemed to vanish instantly. He clanked to his feet and shouted, "Come follow me, dear friends, and we shall find our goal, or else shall perish bravely in the charge!"

He gave the sword another fruitless tug, tried and failed to mount the fat pony, gave up, and cried, "On foot then, good sirs and gentle lady! On! On!"

And he ran, clanking loudly, into the left side of the frame and out of sight.

They hurried after him along the corridor, following the sound of his armor. Every now and then they spotted him running through a picture ahead.

"Be of stout heart, the worst is yet to come!" yelled the knight, and they saw him reappear in front of an alarmed group of women in crinolines, whose picture hung on the wall of a narrow spiral staircase.

Puffing loudly, Harry, Ron, (Y/N), and Hermione climbed the tightly spiraling steps, getting dizzier and dizzier, until at last they heard the murmur of voices above them and knew they had reached the classroom.

"Farewell!" cried the knight, popping his head into a painting of some sinister-looking monks. "Farewell, my comrades-in-arms! If ever you have need of noble heart and steely sinew, call upon Sir Cadogan!"

"Yeah, we'll call you," muttered Ron as the knight disappeared, "if we ever need someone mental."

(Y/N) spoke exhaustedly, "Do any of you remember how we got here? I can't do that again. . ." Ron and Harry nodded in agreement.

They climbed the last few steps and emerged onto a tiny landing, where most of the class was already assembled. There were no doors off this landing, but Ron nudged Harry and pointed at the ceiling, where there was a circular trapdoor with a brass plaque on it.

"'Sibyll Trelawney, Divination teacher,'" Harry read. "How're we supposed to get up there?"

As though in answer to his question, the trapdoor suddenly opened, and a silvery ladder descended right at Harry's feet. Everyone got quiet.

"After you," said (Y/N), grinning, so Harry climbed the ladder first.

He emerged into the strangest-looking classroom he had ever seen. In fact, it didn't look like a classroom at all, more like a cross between someone's attic and an old-fashioned tea shop. At least twenty small, circular tables were crammed inside it, all surrounded by chintz armchairs and fat little poufs. Everything was lit with a dim, crimson light; the curtains at the windows were all closed, and the many lamps were draped with dark red scarves. It was stiflingly warm, and the fire that was burning under the crowded mantelpiece was giving off a heavy, sickly sort of perfume as it heated a large copper kettle. The shelves running around the circular walls were crammed with dusty-looking feathers, stubs of candles, many packs of tattered playing cards, countless silvery crystal balls, and a huge array of teacups.

Ron appeared at Harry's shoulder as the class assembled around them, all talking in whispers.

"Where is she?" Ron said.

A voice came suddenly out of the shadows, a soft, misty sort of voice.

"Welcome," it said. "How nice to see you in the physical world at last."

Harry's immediate impression was of a large, glittering insect. Professor Trelawney moved into the firelight, and they saw that she was very thin; her large glasses magnified her eyes to several times their natural size, and she was draped in a gauzy spangled shawl. Innumerable chains and beads hung around her spindly neck, and her arms and hands were encrusted with bangles and rings.

"Sit, my children, sit," she said, and they all climbed awkwardly into armchairs or sank onto poufs. Harry, Ron, (Y/N), and Hermione sat themselves around the same round table.

"Welcome to Divination," said Professor Trelawney, who had seated herself in a winged armchair in front of the fire. "My name is Professor Trelawney. You may not have seen me before. I find that descending too often into the hustle and bustle of the main school clouds my Inner Eye."

Nobody said anything to this extraordinary pronouncement. Professor Trelawney delicately rearranged her shawl and continued, "So you have chosen to study Divination, the most difficult of all magical arts. I must warn you at the outset that if you do not have the Sight, there is very little I will be able to teach you...Books can take you only so far in this field..."

At these words, Harry, (Y/N), and Ron glanced, grinning, at Hermione, who looked startled at the news that books wouldn't be much help in this subject.

"You'll be fine, 'Mione." (Y/N) whispered reassuringly.

"Many witches and wizards, talented though they are in the area of loud bangs and smells and sudden disappearings, are yet unable to penetrate the veiled mysteries of the future," Professor Trelawney went on, her enormous, gleaming eyes moving from face to nervous face. "It is a Gift granted to few. You, boy," she said suddenly to Neville, who almost toppled off his pouf. "Is your grandmother well?"

"I think so," said Neville tremulously.

"I wouldn't be so sure if I were you, dear," said Professor Trelawney, the firelight glinting on her long emerald earrings. Neville gulped. Professor Trelawney continued placidly. "We will be covering the basic methods of Divination this year. The first term will be devoted to reading the tea leaves. Next term we shall progress to palmistry. By the way, my dear," she shot suddenly at Parvati Patil, "beware a red-haired man."

(Y/N) and Harry both burst out into laughter as the Patil girl in from of Ron gave him a wary look and scooter farther from him. 

"In the second term," Professor Trelawney went on, "we shall progress to the crystal ball -- if we have finished with fire omens, that is. Unfortunately, classes will be disrupted in February by a nasty bout of flu. I myself will lose my voice. And around Easter, one of our number will leave us for ever."

A very tense silence followed this pronouncement, but Professor Trelawney seemed unaware of it.

"I wonder, dear," she said to Lavender Brown, who was nearest and shrank back in her chair, "if you could pass me the largest silver teapot?"

Lavender, looking relieved, stood up, took an enormous teapot from the shelf, and put it down on the table in front of Professor Trelawney.

"Thank you, my dear. Incidentally, that thing you are dreading -- it will happen on Friday the sixteenth of October."

Lavender trembled.

"Now, I want you all to divide into pairs. Collect a teacup from the shelf, come to me, and I will fill it. Then sit down and drink, drink until only the dregs remain. Swill these around the cup three times with the left hand, then turn the cup upside down on its saucer, wait for the last of the tea to drain away, then give your cup to your partner to read. You will interpret the patterns using pages five and six of Unfogging the Future. I shall move among you, helping and instructing. Oh, and dear," -- she caught Neville by the arm as he made to stand up, "after you've broken your first cup, would you be so kind as to select one of the blue patterned ones? I'm rather attached to the pink."

Sure enough, Neville had no sooner reached the shelf of teacups when there was a tinkle of breaking china. Professor Trelawney swept over to him holding a dustpan and brush and said, "One of the blue ones, then, dear, if you wouldn't mind...thank you..."

When Harry and Ron had had their teacups filled, they went back to their table and tried to drink the scalding tea quickly. They swilled the dregs around as Professor Trelawney had instructed, then drained the cups and swapped over.

"Right," said Ron as they both opened their books at pages five and six. "What can you see in mine?"

"A load of soggy brown stuff," said Harry. The heavily perfumed smoke in the room was making him feel sleepy and stupid.

"Broaden your minds, my dears, and allow your eyes to see past the mundane!" Professor Trelawney cried through the gloom.

Harry tried to pull himself together.

"Right, you've got a crooked sort of cross..." He consulted Unfogging the Future. "That means you're going to have 'trials and suffering' -- sorry about that -- but there's a thing that could be the sun. Hang on. . .that means 'great happiness'. . .so you're going to suffer but be very happy. . ."

"You masochists." (Y/N) whispered to them.

Ron and Harry both had to stifle their laughs as Professor Trelawney gazed in their direction.

Professor Trelawney made her way over to their table and listened to Hermione's Inner Eye practice on (Y/N)'s tea leaves. 

"Well—er—according to Unfogging the Future, the heart shapes in the future and near future placements would signify romance,—multiple actually. . ." She turned the cup more to see other possible tea leaf predictions, bringing it closer to her face, "This marking represents fertility and long-lasting love, and this one represents soulmates." She said, very suspicious of the reliability of this all. 

Lavender and Parvati both became giggly when (Y/N)'s love life and the word 'soulmate' were mentioned. Many other girls had gasped and began trying to see if they had a love reading.

"Oh (Y/N), do you have a crush on someone? Or maybe they have a crush on you?" Lavender squealed, "Maybe I could help you do another reading!" 

(Y/N) had politely agreed and said that would be lovely, but when she finished she turned to Hermione to whisper, "Please tell me you did all of that to do well in front of Professor Trelawney? I don't think I can do boyfriends right now. Teen boys are like zoo animals."

"Well, I don't reckon it's reliable, but this is what resonated with the book." She confirmed, making sure the professor didn't hear. "You mustn't worry too much about it."

Both boys sitting next to them became quiet, not wanting to hear about romance or talk about love with the girls next to them. Their red-tipped ears was the only amount of blushing they wanted to do.

Professor Trelawney didn't seem too impressed with Hermione.

"My turn..." Ron peered into Harry's teacup, his forehead wrinkled with effort. "There's a blob a bit like a bowler hat," he said. "Maybe you're going to work for the Ministry of Magic..."

Hermione and (Y/N) snickered at that.

He turned the teacup the other way up.

"But this way it looks more like an acorn...what's that?" He scanned his copy of Unfogging the Future. "'A windfall, unexpected gold.' Excellent, you can lend me some. And there's a thing here," he turned the cup again, "that looks like an animal...yeah, if that was its head...it looks like a hippo...no, a sheep..."

Professor Trelawney whirled around as Harry let out a snort of laughter.

"Let me see that, my dear," she said reprovingly to Ron, sweeping over and snatching Harry's cup from him. Everyone went quiet to watch.

Professor Trelawney was staring into the teacup, rotating it counterclockwise.

"The falcon...my dear, you have a deadly enemy."

"But everyone knows that," said Hermione in a loud whisper. Professor Trelawney stared at her.

"Well, they do," said Hermione. "Everybody knows about Harry and You-Know-Who." (Y/N) had looked a bit confused, not remembering Hermione speaking of an arch-nemesis.

Harry, (Y/N), and Ron stared at her with a mixture of amazement and admiration. They had never heard Hermione speak to a teacher like that before, let alone anyone else. Professor Trelawney chose not to reply. She lowered her huge eyes to Harry's cup again and continued to turn it.

"The club...an attack. Dear, dear, this is not a happy cup..."

"I thought that was a bowler hat," said Ron sheepishly.

"The skull...danger in your path, my dear..."

Everyone was staring, transfixed, at Professor Trelawney, who gave the cup a final turn, gasped, and then screamed.

There was another tinkle of breaking china; Neville had smashed his second cup. Professor Trelawney sank into a vacant armchair, her glittering hand at her heart and her eyes closed.

"My dear boy -- my poor dear boy -- no -- it is kinder not to say -- no -- don't ask me...."

"What is it, Professor?" said Dean Thomas at once, his eyes shifting to Harry, and then (Y/N) with curiosity. She smiled back, causing him to shift his eyes quickly to the professor. Everyone had got to their feet, and slowly they crowded around Harry and Ron's table, pressing close to Professor Trelawney's chair to get a good look at Harry's cup.

"My dear," Professor Trelawney's huge eyes opened dramatically, "you have the Grim."

"The what?" said Harry.

He could tell that he wasn't the only one who didn't understand; Dean Thomas shrugged at him, Lavender Brown looked puzzled, (Y/N) had rolled her eyes, but nearly everybody else clapped their hands to their mouths in horror.

"The Grim, my dear, the Grim!" cried Professor Trelawney, who looked shocked that Harry hadn't understood. "The giant, spectral dog that haunts churchyards! My dear boy, it is an omen -- the worst omen -- of death!"

Harry's stomach lurched. That dog on the cover of Death Omens in Flourish and Blotts—the dog in the shadows of Magnolia Crescent...Lavender Brown clapped her hands to her mouth too. Everyone was looking at Harry, everyone except Hermione, who had gotten up and moved around to the back of Professor Trelawney's chair.

"I don't think it looks like a Grim," she said flatly.

(Y/N) whispered to Hermione it looked like a giraffe.

Professor Trelawney surveyed Hermione with mounting dislike.

"You'll forgive me for saying so, my dear, but I perceive very little aura around you. Very little receptivity to the resonances of the future."

Seamus Finnigan was tilting his head from side to side.

"It looks like a Grim if you do this," he said, with his eyes almost shut, "but it looks more like a donkey from here," he said, leaning to the left.

"When you've all finished deciding whether I'm going to die or not!" said Harry, taking even himself by surprise. Now nobody seemed to want to look at him. (Y/N) gave him a reassuring smile and he felt a little better.

"I think we will leave the lesson here for today," said Professor Trelawney in her mistiest voice. "Yes. . .please pack away your things. . ."

Silently the class took their teacups back to Professor Trelawney, packed away their books, and closed their bags. Even Ron was avoiding Harry's eyes.

"Until we meet again," said Professor Trelawney faintly, "fair fortune be yours. Oh, and dear," -- she pointed at Neville, "you'll be late next time, so mind you work extra-hard to catch up." She then turned to (Y/N) quickly, "My dear! You will have too many to choose from! Your soulmate won't be too happy when it begins. Good luck!"

(Y/N) gave the trio a look to get the hell out.

Harry, Ron, (Y/N), and Hermione descended Professor Trelawney's ladder and the winding stair in silence, then set off for Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration lesson. It took them so long to find her classroom that, early as they had left Divination, they were only just in time.

Harry chose a seat right at the back of the room, feeling as though he were sitting in a very bright spotlight; the rest of the class kept shooting furtive glances at him, as though he were about to drop dead at any moment. He hardly heard what Professor McGonagall was telling them about Animagi (wizards who could transform at will into animals), and wasn't even watching when she transformed herself in front of their eyes into a tabby cat with spectacle markings around her eyes.

(Y/N) had decided to sit next to Harry instead of Ron or Hermione, knowing what it's like to have everyone stare like that. She pretended like nothing happened and it was any old school day, which Harry was grateful for the lack of apologetic staring.

"Really, what has got into you all today?" said Professor McGonagall, turning back into herself with a faint pop, and staring around at them all. "Not that it matters, but that's the first time my transformation's not got applause from a class."

Everybody's heads turned toward Harry again, but nobody spoke. Then Hermione raised her hand.

"Please, Professor, we've just had our first Divination class, and we were reading the tea leaves, and—" 

"Ah, of course," said Professor McGonagall, suddenly frowning. "There is no need to say any more, Miss Granger. Tell me, which of you will be dying, falling in love, or on a treacherous journey this year?"

Everyone stared at her.

"Me," said Harry, finally.

"I see," said Professor McGonagall, fixing Harry with her beady eyes. "Then you should know, Potter, that Sibyll Trelawney has predicted the death of one student a year since she arrived at this school. None of them has died yet. Seeing death omens is her favorite way of greeting a new class. If it were not for the fact that I never speak ill of my colleagues—" Professor McGonagall broke off, and they saw that her nostrils had gone white. She went on, more calmly, "Divination is one of the most imprecise branches of magic. I shall not conceal from you that I have very little patience with it. True Seers are very rare, and Professor Trelawney..."

She stopped again, and then said, in a very matter-of-fact tone, "You look in excellent health to me, Potter, so you will excuse me if I don't let you off homework today. I assure you that if you die, you need not hand it in."

Hermione and (Y/N) laughed. Harry felt a bit better. It was harder to feel scared of a lump of tea leaves away from the dim red light and befuddling perfume of Professor Trelawney's classroom. Not everyone was convinced, however. Ron still looked worried, and Lavender whispered, "But what about Neville's cup?"

When the Transfiguration class had finished, they joined the crowd thundering toward the Great Hall for lunch. (Y/N) had sat with them again, ignoring the glances from her house's table.

"Ron, cheer up," said Hermione, pushing a dish of stew toward him. "You heard what Professor McGonagall said."

Ron spooned stew onto his plate and picked up his fork but didn't start.

"Harry," he said, in a low, serious voice, "You haven't seen a great black dog anywhere, have you?"

"Yeah, I have," said Harry. "I saw one the night I left the Dursleys'."

Ron let his fork fall with a clatter.

"Probably a stray," said Hermione calmly.

Ron looked at Hermione as though she had gone mad.

"Hermione, if Harry's seen a Grim, that's -- that's bad," he said. "My —my uncle Bilius saw one and —and he died twenty-four hours later!"

"Coincidence," said Hermione airily, pouring herself some pumpkin juice.

"Well, Harry didn't mention it until Professor Trelawney said anything. You guys are now worried because you have been given a placebo." (Y/N) said, trying to mediate. Hermione nodded in approval.

"You don't know what you're talking about!" said Ron, starting to get angry. "Grims scare the living daylights out of most wizards!"

"There you are, then," said Hermione in a superior tone. "They see the Grim and die of fright. The Grim's not an omen, it's the cause of death! And Harry's still with us because he's not stupid enough to see one and think, right, well, I'd better kick the bucket then!"

Ron mouthed wordlessly at Hermione, who opened her bag, took out her new Arithmancy book, and propped it open against the juice jug.

"I think Divination seems very woolly," she said, searching for her page. "A lot of guesswork, if you ask me."

"There was nothing woolly about the Grim in that cup!" said Ron hotly.

"You didn't seem quite so confident when you were telling Harry it was a sheep," said Hermione coolly.

"To be fair, you said it looked like an acorn. But, it looked like a giraffe." (Y/N) said, right before chewing on a roasted potato.

"Professor Trelawney said you didn't have the right aura! You just don't like being bad at something for a change!"

He had touched a nerve. Hermione slammed her Arithmancy book down on the table so hard that bits of meat and carrot flew everywhere.

"If being good at Divination means I have to pretend to see death omens in a lump of tea leaves, I'm not sure I'll be studying it much longer! That lesson was absolute rubbish compared with my Arithmancy class!"

She snatched up her bag and stalked away. (Y/N)'s eyes widened and she turned towards the two boys next to her with a parenting look.

Ron frowned after her.

"What's she talking about?" he said to Harry. "She hasn't been to an Arithmancy class yet."

"She did, I saw her completing assignments from the class." Harry confirmed.

(Y/N)'s POV

I was pleased to get out of the castle after lunch. Yesterday's rain had cleared; the sky was a clear, pale gray, and the grass was springy and damp underfoot as we all set off for my first ever Care of Magical Creatures class. The beginning-of-fall weather, along with the merigold and cider sky hues made this the perfect time for class.

Ron and Hermione weren't talking, so that left Harry and I to silently walk with them, only to occasionally speak. We traveled down the sloping lawns until we came into view of a small hut, just bordering a dense, lush forest. 

As we made our way down, we all came to the realization that it wasn't just me and miscellaneous Slytherins, it was with a specific blond and his grotesque friends. Harry seemed to get disheartened again once they began chortling, I'm guessing they were still re-enacting his encounter with the dementor. 

Hagrid was waiting for our class at the door of his hut. He stood in his moleskin overcoat, with a humongous dog, a boarhound at his heels, looking impatient to start.

"C'mon, now, get a move on!" he called as the class approached. "Got a real treat for yeh today! Great lesson comin' up! Everyone here? Right, follow me!"

For a second, Harry and I glanced to each other, both fearfully thinking we were about to go into the forest. Hagrid ended up leading us to a paddock, bordering trees.

"Everyone gather 'round the fence here!" he called. "That's it -- make sure yeh can see—now, firs' thing yeh'll want ter do is open yer books—"

"How?" said the cold, drawling voice of Draco Malfoy. I made eye-contact with him just to get scoffed at.

"Eh?" said Hagrid.

"How do we open our books?" Malfoy repeated. He took out his copy of The Monster Book of Monsters, which he had bound shut with a length of rope. Other people took theirs out too; some, like Harry, had belted their book shut; others had crammed them inside tight bags or clamped them together with binder clips.

"Hasn' -- hasn' anyone bin able ter open their books?" said Hagrid, looking crestfallen.

The class all shook their heads.

"Yeh've got ter stroke 'em," said Hagrid, as though this was the most obvious thing in the world. "Look—"

He politely took my copy and ripped off the Spellotape that bound it. The book tried to bite, but Hagrid ran a giant forefinger down its spine, and the book shivered, and then fell open and lay quiet in his hand, he handed it back. 

"Thank you!" I said, pleased.

"Oh, how silly we've all been!" Malfoy sneered. "We should have stroked them! Why didn't we guess!"

"Can you go five minutes without speaking?" I hissed out, tired of hearing this pretentious prick continuing to speak. He shot me a fowl look.

"I—I thought they were funny," Hagrid said uncertainly to Hermione. We both nodded reassuringly.

"Oh, tremendously funny!" said Malfoy. "Really witty, giving us books that try and rip our hands off!"

"Shut up, Malfoy," said Harry quietly. Hagrid was looking downcast and Harry had definitely wanted Hagrid's first lesson to be a success.

"Righ' then," said Hagrid, who seemed to have lost his thread, "so—so yeh've got yer books an'...an'...now yeh need the Magical Creatures. Yeah. So I'll go an' get 'em. Hang on..."

He strode away from them into the forest and out of sight.

"God, this place is going to the dogs," said Malfoy loudly. "That oaf teaching classes, my father'll have a fit when I tell him --"

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry repeated.

"Careful, Potter, there's a Dementor behind you—"

"Let's hope you don't piss yourself like last time then—" I shot back at him, I was through with his constant complaining and feedback. He looked like he was about to combust, Harry and Ron looked like they could've hugged me.

"Oooooooh!" squealed Lavender Brown, pointing toward the opposite side of the paddock.

Trotting towards us were a dozen of the most bizarre creatures I had ever seen. They had the bodies, hind legs, and tails of horses, but the front legs, wings, and heads of what seemed to be giant eagles, with cruel, steel-colored beaks and large, brilliantly, orange eyes. The talons on their front legs were half a foot long and deadly looking. Each of the beasts had a thick leather collar around its neck, which was attached to a long chain, and the ends of all of these were held in the vast hands of Hagrid, who came jogging into the paddock behind the creatures.

"Gee up, there!" he roared, shaking the chains and urging the creatures toward the fence where the class stood. Everyone drew back slightly as Hagrid reached them and tethered the creatures to the fence.

"Hippogriffs!" Hagrid roared happily, waving a hand at them. "Beau'iful, aren' they?"

I could sort of see what Hagrid meant. Once you got over the first shock of seeing something that was half horse, half bird, you started to appreciate the Hippogriffs' gleaming coats, changing smoothly from feather to hair, each of them a different color: stormy gray, bronze, pinkish roan, gleaming chestnut, and inky black.

"So," said Hagrid, rubbing his hands together and beaming around, "if yeh wan' ter come a bit nearer..."

No one seemed to want to. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I however, approached the fence cautiously.

"Now, firs' thing yeh gotta know abou' Hippogriffs is, they're proud," said Hagrid. "Easily offended, Hippogriffs are. Don't never insult one, 'cause it might be the last thing yeh do."

"Yeh always wait fer the Hippogriff ter make the firs' move," Hagrid continued. "It's polite, see? Yeh walk toward him, and yeh bow, an' yeh wait. If he bows back, yeh're allowed ter touch him. If he doesn' bow, then get away from him sharpish, 'cause those talons hurt."

"Right -- who wants ter go first?"

Most of the class backed farther away in answer. Even Harry, Ron, and Hermione had misgiving looks sprawled across their face. The Hippogriffs were tossing their fierce heads and flexing their powerful wings; they didn't seem to like being tethered like this.

"No one?" said Hagrid, with a pleading look.

"I'll do it," I said, clearly wanting their favorite professor to feel good. Harry had said the same thing.

There was an intake of breath from behind us, and both Lavender and Parvati whispered, "Oooh, no, Harry, remember your tea leaves!"

I couldn't help but to let out a laugh when Harry rolled his eyes. I gave him a look and crawled over the paddock, careful, so that my skirt wouldn't ride up to far. I heard a whistle coming from the Slytherins, but I tried to ignore it.

Harry had ignored his audience too, but only to shoot a look at the whistling boys. He climbed over the paddock fence next to me.

"Good man, Harry!" roared Hagrid. Real respectful, (Y/N)!" "Right then—let's see how yeh both get on with Buckbeak."

He untied one of the chains, pulled the gray Hippogriff away from its fellows, and slipped off its leather collar. The class on the other side of the paddock seemed to be holding its breath. Malfoy's eyes were narrowed maliciously.

"Easy now, Harry, (Y/N)," said Hagrid quietly. "Yeh've got eye contact, now try not ter blink...Hippogriffs don' trust yeh if yeh blink too much..."

My eyes immediately began to water, but I didn't dare shut them. Buckbeak had turned his great, sharp head and was staring back at me with one fierce orange eye. "Tha's it," said Hagrid. "Tha's it, (Y/N)...now, bow." I gave a quick bow and looked up towards Buckbeak, just to see him kneeling down on his scaly knees. 

"Well done, (Y/N)! Well done!" Hagrid praised. "You can touch him, go, pat his beak!"

I made my way over the hippogriff, cautiously, but definitely excitingly. I was very interested in magical creatures, so I couldn't be more happy. I offered the back of my hand to the creature and it responded immediately, nuzzling affectionately. The rest of the class cheered. It didn't feel soft, but it felt warm and loving as the hippogriff leaned into my hand, lazily.

"Alright, (Y/N)! Now, let's see if Harry can."

It took Harry a while to get get hippogriff to bow in return, but he managed to eventually, and he was now petting the creature warily. He didn't seem to enjoy this as much as I did

"Righ' then," said Hagrid. "I reckon he migh' let yeh ride him!"

This was more than what Harry and I bargained for. 

"Yeh climb up there, jus' behind the wing joint," said Hagrid, "an' mind yeh don' pull any of his feathers out, he won' like that..."

Harry had put his foot on the top of Buckbeak's wing and hoisted himself onto it's back. I stayed planted where I had been, not wanting to fall off into the forest or yank out a feather. 

Harry had turned to me waiting, "Everyone else wants you to fly, you can't let them down, now can you?" He asked loud enough for the class to hear and cheer on. I gave him a death glare before making my way over. 

"I hate you." I mutter to him, trying to hoist myself up, but failing to do so from my lack of upper body strength and awkward positioning to keep my skirt down. 

"Is that so?" He asked mockingly, offering his hand to help me up. I scowled at him, I knew he had to help me up, or Hagrid would have to.

I took his warm, large hand and gripped it to pull myself up on onto the backend of Buckbeak.

"You might wanna hold on ter Harry, (Y/N)! Go on, then!" roared Hagrid, slapping the Hippogriffs hindquarters.

Without warning, twelve-foot wings flapped open on either side of us. I clamped my arms around Harry as I started to slide down, he himself was barely holding on.

Buckbeak didn't just fly us around the paddock. He went over a patch of the forest, to the huge, murky lake. After Harry and I stopped sliding around so much, it became enjoyable. The sun reflected the sky's brassy tones onto the rippling lake, causing orange shimmers to saturate our eyes. The air was nice and cool, and it smelled faintly of how I could only describe as Harry's smell, since the breeze was blowing towards me and he was in front. It became calm and refreshing to soar over the horizon. I closed my eyes and and tilted my head more to enjoy the breeze. 

"You alright?" Harry asked, turning his heads towards me, causing our faces to be inches apart. 

I opened my eyes and met his emerald ones through his circular frames, brightened by the sky. "Yeah, just don't wanna fall." I said, looking down momentarily. 

The wind tousled his raven hair, causing it to become a wild mess as his fringe blew, "Harry, your hair!" I laughed, trying to pat it down, making it worse. It separated the hair more, showcasing his scar, causing my hand to hover. 

"You really can't make it lay flat—" He realized I had saw his scar and turned back.

"Sorry." I whispered, returning my arm gripping tighter.

"It's alright." He replied. 

Our least favorite part was the landing, we hit the ground with a loud thud and we were lurched back

"Good work, Harry and (Y/N)!" roared Hagrid as everyone except Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle cheered. "Okay, who else wants a go?"

The rest of the class climbed cautiously into the paddock. Hagrid untied the Hippogriffs one by one, and soon people were bowing nervously, all over the paddock. Neville ran repeatedly backward from his, which didn't seem to want to bend its knees. Ron and Hermione practiced on the chestnut, while Harry and I watched.

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle had taken over Buckbeak. He had bowed to Malfoy, who was now patting his beak, looking disdainful.

"This is very easy," Malfoy drawled, loud enough for Harry and I to hear him. "I knew it must have been, if Potty and that could do it...I bet you're not dangerous at all, are you?" he said to the Hippogriff. "Are you, you great ugly brute?"

It happened in a flash of steely talons; Malfoy let out a high pitched scream and next moment, Hagrid was wrestling Buckbeak back into his collar as he strained to get at Malfoy, who lay curled in the grass, blood blossoming over his robes.

"I'm dying!" Malfoy yelled as we panicked. "I'm dying, look at me! It's killed me!"

"Yer not dyin'!" said Hagrid, who had gone very white. "Someone help me -- gotta get him outta here --"

Hermione ran to hold open the gate as Hagrid lifted Malfoy easily. As they passed, I saw that there was a long, deep gash on Malfoy's arm; blood splattered the grass and Hagrid ran with him, up the slope toward the castle.

Very shaken, our Care of Magical Creatures class followed at a walk. The Slytherins were all shouting about Hagrid.

"They should sack him straight away!" said Pansy Parkinson, who was in tears.

"It was Malfoy's fault!" snapped Dean Thomas. Crabbe and Goyle flexed their muscles threateningly.

"What are you going to do?" I spat at them, they cowered back immediately. 

We all climbed the stone steps into the deserted entrance hall.

"I'm going to see if he's okay!" said Pansy, and they all watched her run up the marble staircase. The Slytherins, still muttering about Hagrid, headed away in the direction of their dungeon common room; I didn't want to go back to the common room full of Malfoy’s friends, so I turned to the trio, hoping they would let me up the their common room.

"Oh c'mon, Hermione, it's just one rule." Ron said. We make our way up to the Gryffindor tower.

"You think he'll be all right?" said Hermione nervously.

"Course he will. Madam Pomfrey can mend cuts in about a second," said Harry.

"That was a really bad thing to happen in Hagrid's first class, though, wasn't it?" said Ron, looking worried. "Trust Malfoy to mess things up for him..."

We were among the first to reach the Great Hall at dinnertime, hoping to see Hagrid, but he wasn't there.

"They wouldn't fire him, would they?" said Hermione anxiously, not touching her steak-and-kidney pudding.

"They'd better not," said Ron, who wasn't eating either.

I kept watching the Slytherin table. A large group including Crabbe and Goyle was huddled together, deep in conversation. I was sure they were cooking up their own version of how Malfoy had been injured.

"Well, you can't say it wasn't an interesting first day back," said Ron gloomily. "Hope you enjoyed it, (Y/N)."

We went back up to the crowded Gryffindor common room after dinner and tried to do the homework Professor McGonagall had given us, but all three of us kept breaking off and glancing out of the tower window. I particularly enjoyed the Gryffindor common room more, it was bright and homey. 

"There's a light on in Hagrid's window," Harry said suddenly.

Ron looked at his watch.

"If we hurried, we could go down and see him. It's still quite early..."

"I don't know," Hermione said slowly, and Harry saw her glance at him.

"Hermione, it should be fine!" I spoke.

"I'm allowed to walk across the grounds," he said pointedly. "Sirius Black hasn't got past the Dementors yet, has he?"

So we put our things away and headed out of the portrait hole, glad to meet nobody on our way to the front doors, we weren't entirely sure that we were supposed to be out.

The grass was still wet and looked almost black in the twilight. When we had reached Hagrid's hut, we knocked, and a voice growled, "C'min."

Hagrid was sitting in his shirtsleeves at his scrubbed wooden table. One look at him hattold me that Hagrid had been drinking a lot; there was a pewter tankard almost as big as a bucket in front of him, and he seemed to be having difficulty getting them into focus.

"'Spect it's a record," he said thickly, when he recognized them. "Don' reckon they've ever had a teacher who lasted on'y a day before."

"You haven't been fired, Hagrid!" gasped Hermione.

"You made my first day at Hogwarts spectacular!" I exclaimed.

"Not yet," said Hagrid miserably, taking a huge gulp of whatever was in the tankard. "But's only a matter o' time, I'n't, after Malfoy. . .That’s really sweet of ya’ (Y/N)."

"How is he?" said Ron as we all sat down. "It wasn't serious, was it?"

"Madam Pomfrey fixed him best she could," said Hagrid dully, "but he's sayin' it's still agony. . .covered in bandages. . .moanin'. . ."

"He's faking it," said Harry at once. "Madam Pomfrey can mend anything. She regrew half my bones last year. Trust Malfoy to milk it for all it's worth."

"What!?" I asked surprised. 

"We'll tell you later." He whispered.

"School gov'nors have bin told, o' course," said Hagrid miserably. "They reckon I started too big. Shoulda left Hippogriffs fer later...one flobberworms or summat...Jus' thought it'd make a good firs' lesson's all my fault..."

"It's all Malfoy's fault, Hagrid!" said Hermione earnestly.

"We're witnesses," said Harry. "You said Hippogriffs attack if you insult them. It's Malfoy's problem that he wasn't listening. We'll tell Dumbledore what really happened."

"We can definitely confirm he instigated it!" I said, reassuringly.

"Yeah, don't worry, Hagrid, we'll back you up," said Ron.

Tears leaked out of the crinkled corners of Hagrid's beetle-black eyes. He grabbed both Harry and Ron and pulled them into a bone-breaking hug.

"I think you've had enough to drink, Hagrid," said Hermione firmly. She took the tankard from the table and went outside to empty it.

"Ah, maybe she's right," said Hagrid, letting go of Harry and Ron, who both staggered away, rubbing their ribs. Hagrid heaved himself out of his chair and followed Hermione unsteadily outside. They heard a loud splash.

"What's he done?" said Harry nervously as Hermione came back in with the empty tankard.

"Stuck his head in the water barrel," said Hermione, putting the tankard away.

Hagrid came back, his long hair and beard sopping wet, wiping the water out of his eyes.

"That's better," he said, shaking his head like a dog and drenching them all. "Listen, it was good of yeh ter come an' see me, I really --"

Hagrid stopped dead, staring at Harry as though he'd only just realized he was there.

"WHAT D'YEH THINK YOU'RE DOIN', EH?" he roared, so suddenly that they jumped a foot in the air. "YEH'RE NOT TO GO WANDERIN' AROUND AFTER DARK, HARRY! AN, YOU TWO! LETTIN' HIM!" He continued, "BRINGING (Y/N) OUT HERE KNOWING HOW DANGEROUS IT IS!" 

Hagrid strode over to Harry, grabbed his arm, and pulled him to the door.

"C'mon!" Hagrid said angrily. "I'm takin' yer all back up ter school an' don' let me catch yeh walkin' down ter see me after dark again. I'm not worth that!"


	5. iii. Seizing Opportunity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Fear is the path to the Dark Side. Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering."

(Y/N)'s POV

My eyes quickly shot open when I heard the girls I room with let out a squeal. 

I gazed at dark emerald canopy, provided by my four-poster bed, that concealed me from the other girls. I didn't mind Millicent, Daphne, or even Pansy. They all were nice to me, and occasionally didn't bully my friends. It was just Astoria. All she did was boast about her flirtatious moments with Draco Malfoy, knowing Pansy adored him, or she'd just make snide remarks towards me. She wasn't even a third year, she was a second year. She constantly scrutinized Millie's size or Pansy's bone structure. 

I grimaced, remembering today was a Thursday, not a Friday or Saturday. That meant I'd have to leave my satin sheets and fluffy pillows to see Professor Snape, the bane of my existence. But at least I'd have Hermione, Ron, and Harry in Double Potions to suffer with me.

I had opened the canopy curtains and began to get ready when the other girls left. Then I made my way out of the girl’s dormitories to the common room. The room was decorated in silver and emerald everywhere, with lush, velvet couches and the floor was made black marble stone. It was very elegant and luxurious, yet so icy and lonely. My favorite part was the humongous window that gave a clear view into the Black Lake. If we were lucky, merpeople and the squid would float by.

I had made it to the last step when I saw my cat under the pretentious hand of Draco Malfoy, who was swarmed by Slytherin’s entire girl population. 

"Get off of Orion!" I screeched at him, making my way through.

"I'm just relieving the poor thing of it's Mudblood lover owner." He cockily retorted, earning a few giggles from girls I didn't know, as he pet my cat with his un-bandaged arm.

"Nice insult Billy Idol, got any more harsh digs?" I asked as I snatched Orion from him, he lurched back not wanting me to touch him. The only other nomaj-born Slytherins giggled at my comment. 

"What is a Billy Idol?" Malfoy asked offendedly.I scoffed at his ignorance and made my way back up to the dorm to keep Orion safe from him. 

When I came back down two boys were waiting for me, Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini.

"He's not that bad once you get to know him, Draco, I mean." Spoke the brunet.

"You guys are still talking to me, even with your friends wanting my head on a stick?" I asked them as we made our way out to the Great Hall. 

"That's not funny, (Y/N)." Blaise said sternly. "Don't joke like that."

"Your friends seem to think it's not a joke. All of them actually."

"We don't." They said in unison. 

"Doesn't seem like it."

"Sit with us today then?" Theo pleaded, "You never do, it's always with them." 

"Maybe another time." I said gazing towards the table of glares from the English Slytherins.

I had sat down with the trio like clockwork, eating our breakfast, discussing today's schedule before walking to class together.

We were halfway through Double Potions when Draco Malfoy swaggered into the dungeon, his right arm covered in new bandages and bound up in a sling, acting as though he were the heroic survivor of some dreadful battle.

How is it, Draco?" simpered a Slytherin girl. "Does it hurt much?" I sighed loudly trying to pay attention to the ingredients list I was reading, earning a chuckle from Harry.

"Yeah," said Malfoy, putting on a brave sort of grimace. But I saw him wink at Crabbe and Goyle when she had looked away.

"Settle down, settle down," said Professor Snape idly.

It caused Harry and Ron to scowl next to me, Snape would have never just said "settle down" if they'd walked in late, he'd have given them detention. I wasn't even going to think about what would happen to me, he's the head of my house and would have free reign over the punishment. But Malfoy had always been able to get away with anything in Snape's classes; he generally favored him over all. 

We were making a new potion today, a Shrinking Solution. What I didn't understand was why Malfoy set up his cauldron right in between Harry and Ron, so that we were preparing our ingredients on the same table. Then I realized when he grinned malevolently.

"Sir," Malfoy called, "Sir, I'll need help cutting up these daisy roots, because of my arm —"

"Weasley, cut up Malfoy's roots for him," said Snape without looking up. Ron went brick red and looked at Harry and I full of rage.

"There's nothing wrong with your arm," I whispered at Malfoy. Malfoy smirked across the table.

"Weasley, you heard Professor Snape; cut up these roots."

Ron seized his knife, pulled Malfoy's roots toward him, and began to chop them roughly, so that they were all different sizes.

"Professor," drawled Malfoy, "Weasley's mutilating my roots, sir."

Snape approached our overcrowded table, stared down his hooked nose at the roots, then gave Ron an unpleasant smile from beneath his long, greasy black hair.

"Change roots with Malfoy, Weasley."

"But, sir — !" I yelled out.

Ron had spent the last quarter of an hour carefully shredding his own roots into exactly equal pieces, I was proud he'd actually try in class. It wasn't fair Malfoy came in late and refused to do work.

"Now, " said Snape in his most dangerous voice towards us both.

Ron shoved his own beautifully cut roots across the table at Malfoy, then took up the knife again.

"And, sir, I'll need this shriveling skinned," said Malfoy, his voice full of malicious laughter.

"Potter, you can skin Malfoy's shriveling," said Snape, giving Harry the look of loathing he always reserved just for him.  
Harry took Malfoy's shriveling as Ron began trying to repair the damage to the roots he now had to use. Harry skinned the shriveling as fast as he could and flung it back across the table at Malfoy without speaking. Malfoy was smirking more broadly than ever.

"Seen your pal Hagrid lately?" he asked them quietly.

"None of your business," I said jerkily, without looking up. I was paying attention to my ingredients. 

"I'm afraid he won't be a teacher much longer," said Malfoy in a tone of mock sorrow. "Father's not very happy about my injury —"

"Keep talking, Malfoy, and I'll give you a real injury," snarled Ron.

"— he's complained to the school governors. And to the Ministry of Magic. Father's got a lot of influence, you know. And a lasting injury like this" — he gave a huge, fake sigh — "who knows if my arm'll ever be the same again?"

"So that's why you're putting it on," said Harry, accidentally beheading a dead caterpillar because his hand was shaking in anger. "To try to get Hagrid fired."

"Well," said Malfoy, lowering his voice to a whisper, "partly, Potter. But there are other benefits too. (L/N), slice my caterpillars for me." He said staring across, smirking.

"I'll slice your neck," I whispered, snatching his caterpillars from his side of the table, earning a scowl from him and admiring looks from the boys suffering next to me.

A few cauldrons up, I could see Neville was in trouble. Neville regularly went to pieces in Potions lessons; it was his worst subject (I only know because I suffer with potions just as much), and his great fear of Professor Snape made things ten times worse. His potion, which was supposed to be a bright, acid green, had turned —

"Orange, Longbottom," said Snape, ladling some up and allowing it to splash back into the cauldron, so that everyone could see. "Orange. Tell me, boy, does anything penetrate that thick skull of yours? Didn't you hear me say, quite clearly, that only one rat spleen was needed? Didn't I state plainly that a dash of leech juice would suffice? What do I have to do to make you understand, Longbottom?"

Neville was pink and trembling. He looked as though he was on the verge of tears.

"Please, sir," said Hermione, "please, I could help Neville put it right —"

"I don't remember asking you to show off, Miss Granger," said Snape coldly, and Hermione went as pink as Neville. 

"Longbottom, at the end of this lesson we will feed a few drops of this potion to your toad and see what happens. Perhaps that will encourage you to do it properly." Snape moved away, leaving Neville breathless with fear. My mouth widened in shock. 

"Help me!" he moaned to Hermione.

"Hey, Harry," said Seamus Finnigan, leaning over to borrow Harry's brass scales, "have you heard? Daily Prophet this morning — they reckon Sirius Black's been sighted."

"Where?" Harry and I asked simultaneously. On the other side of the table, Malfoy looked up, listening closely.

"Not too far from here," said Seamus, who looked excited. "It was a Muggle who saw him. 'Course, she didn't really understand. The Muggles think he's just an ordinary criminal, don't they? So she phoned the telephone hot line. By the time the Ministry of Magic got there, he was gone."

"Not too far from here ... ," Ron repeated, looking significantly at Harry. He turned around and saw Malfoy watching closely. "What, Malfoy? Need something else skinned?"

But Malfoy's eyes were shining malevolently, and they were fixed on Harry and I. He leaned across the table. "Thinking of trying to catch Black single-handed, Potter?"

"Yeah, that's right," said Harry offhandedly, receiving laughs from Ron and I. Malfoy's thin mouth was curving in a mean smile.

"Of course, if it was me," he said quietly, "I'd have done something before now. I wouldn't be staying in school like a good boy, I'd be out there looking for him."

"What are you talking about, Malfoy?" I asked roughly.

"Don't you know, Potter? Do either of you know anything?" breathed Malfoy, his pale eyes narrowed. "(Y/N), I'd be embarrassed."

"Know what?"

Malfoy let out a low, sneering laugh.

"Maybe you'd rather not risk your neck," he said. "Want to leave it to the dementors, do you? But if it was me, I'd want revenge. I'd hunt him down myself."

"What are you talking about ?" said Harry angrily, but at that moment Snape called, "You should have finished adding your ingredients by now; this potion needs to stew before it can be drunk, so clear away while it simmers and then we'll test Longbottom's. . ." I began to hurry with my cauldron.

Crabbe and Goyle laughed openly, watching Neville sweat as he stirred his potion feverishly. I could look up and see Hermione muttering instructions to him out of the corner of her mouth, so that Snape wouldn't see. Harry and Ron packed away their unused ingredients and went to wash their hands and ladles in the stone basin in the corner. I hurried and went with, not wanting to be alone with Malfoy. 

"What did Malfoy mean?" Harry muttered to us as he stuck his hands under the icy jet that poured from the gargoyle's mouth. "Why would I want revenge on Black? He hasn't done anything to me — yet."

"He's making it up," said Ron savagely. "He's trying to make you do something stupid. Don't know why he was trying to get (Y/N) involved. I reckon he's jealous."

The end of the lesson in sight, Snape strode over to Neville, who was cowering by his cauldron.

"Everyone gather 'round," said Snape, his black eyes glittering, "and watch what happens to Longbottom's toad. If he has managed to produce a Shrinking Solution, it will shrink to a tadpole. If, as I don't doubt, he has done it wrong, his toad is likely to be poisoned."

The Gryffindors watched fearfully. The Slytherins looked excited, especially Malfoy. Snape picked up Trevor the toad in his left hand and dipped a small spoon into Neville's potion, which was now green. He trickled a few drops down Trevor's throat.

There was a moment of hushed silence, in which Trevor gulped; then there was a small pop, and Trevor the tadpole was wriggling in Snape's palm.

The Gryffindors and I burst into applause. Snape, looking sour, pulled a small bottle from the pocket of his robe, poured a few drops on top of Trevor, and he reappeared suddenly, fully grown.

"Five points from Gryffindor," said Snape, which wiped the smiles from every face. "I told you not to help him, Miss Granger. Class dismissed."

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I climbed the steps to the entrance hall. I was still thinking about what Malfoy had said, while Ron was seething about Snape.

"Five points from Gryffindor because the potion was all right! Why didn't you lie, Hermione? You should've said Neville did it all by himself!"

Hermione didn't answer. Ron looked around.

"Where is she?"

Harry and I turned too. We were at the top of the steps now, watching the rest of the class pass by, heading for the Great Hall and lunch.

"She was right behind us," said Ron, frowning.

Malfoy passed them, walking between Crabbe and Goyle. He smirked at me and disappeared.

"There she is," said Harry, watching Malfoy leave.

Hermione was panting slightly, hurrying up the stairs; one hand clutched her bag, the other seemed to be tucking something down the front of her robes.

"How did you do that?" said Ron.

"What?" said Hermione, joining them.

"One minute you were right behind us, the next moment, you were back at the bottom of the stairs again." I said.

"What?" Hermione looked slightly confused. "Oh — I had to go back for something. Oh no —"

A seam had split on Hermione's bag. I wasn't even surprised; I could see that it was crammed with at least a dozen large and heavy books.

"Why are you carrying all these around with you?" Ron asked her.

"You know how many subjects I'm taking," said Hermione breathlessly. "Couldn't hold these for me, could you?"

"But —" Ron was turning over the books she had handed him, looking at the covers. "You haven't got any of these subjects today. It's only Defense Against the Dark Arts this afternoon."

"Oh yes," said Hermione vaguely, but she packed all the books back into her bag just the same. "I hope there's something good for lunch, I'm starving," she added, and she marched off toward the Great Hall.

"D'you get the feeling Hermione's not telling us something?" Ron asked Harry and I.

Professor Lupin wasn't there when we had arrived at my first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson. We all sat down, took out our books, quills, and parchment, and began talking until he finally entered the room. Lupin smiled vaguely and placed his tatty old briefcase on the teacher's desk. He was as shabby as ever but looked healthier than he had on the train, as though he had had a few square meals.

"Good afternoon," he said. "Would you please put all your books back in your bags. Today's will be a practical lesson. You will need only your wands."

A few curious looks were exchanged with me as the class put away their books. They had never had a practical Defense Against the Dark Arts apparently.

"Right then," said Professor Lupin, when everyone was ready. "If you'd follow me."

Puzzled but interested, I got to my feet and followed Professor Lupin, along with the rest of the class, out of the classroom. He led us along the deserted corridor and around a corner, where the first thing we saw was Peeves the Poltergeist, who were floating upside down in midair and stuffing the nearest keyhole with chewing gum.

Peeves didn't look up until Professor Lupin was two feet away; then he wiggled his curly-toed feet and broke into song.  
"Loony, loopy Lupin," Peeves sang. "Loony, loopy Lupin, loony, loopy Lupin —"

Everyone looked quickly at Professor Lupin to see how he would take this; to tour surprise, he was still smiling.

"I'd take that gum out of the keyhole if I were you, Peeves," he said pleasantly. "Mr. Filch won't be able to get in to his brooms."

Filch was the Hogwarts caretaker, a bad-tempered, failed wizard who waged a constant war against the students and, indeed, Peeves. However, Peeves paid no attention to Professor Lupin's words, except to blow a loud wet raspberry.

Professor Lupin gave a small sigh and took out his wand.  
"This is a useful little spell," he told the class over his shoulder. "Please watch closely."

He raised the wand to shoulder height, said, "Waddiwasi!" and pointed it at Peeves.

With the force of a bullet, the wad of chewing gum shot out of the keyhole and straight down Peeves's left nostril; he whirled upright and zoomed away, cursing. Professor Lupin looked to the class, specifically towards me, and smiled. I quickly turned away at the sudden action and felt my insides and face get very hot.

"Cool, sir!" said Dean Thomas, a Gryffindor I had yet to talk to, in amazement.

"Thank you, Dean," said Professor Lupin, putting his wand away again. "Shall we proceed?"

We set off again, our entire class was looking at shabby Professor Lupin with increased respect. He led us down a second corridor and stopped, right outside the staffroom door.  
"Inside, please," said Professor Lupin, opening it and standing back.

The staffroom was a long, paneled room full of old, mismatched chairs, and was empty except for one teacher. 

Professor Snape was sitting in a low armchair, and he looked around as the we filed in. His eyes were glittering and there was a nasty sneer playing around his mouth. As Professor Lupin came in and made to close the door behind him, Snape said, "Leave it open, Lupin. I'd rather not witness this."

He got to his feet and strode past the class, his black robes billowing behind him. At the doorway he turned on his heel and said, "Possibly no one's warned you, Lupin, but this class contains Neville Longbottom. I would advise you not to entrust him with anything difficult. Not unless Miss Granger is hissing instructions in his ear."

Neville went scarlet. I saw Harry glare at Snape; it was bad enough that he bullied Neville in his own classes, let alone doing it in front of other teachers.

Professor Lupin had raised his eyebrows.

"I was hoping that Neville would assist me with the first stage of the operation," he said, "and I am sure he will perform it admirably."

Neville's face went, if possible, even redder. Snape's lip curled, but he left, shutting the door with a snap.

"Now, then," said Professor Lupin, beckoning is towards the end of the room, where there was nothing but an old wardrobe where the teachers kept their spare robes. As Professor Lupin went to stand next to it, the wardrobe gave a sudden wobble, banging off the wall.

"Nothing to worry about," said Professor Lupin calmly because a few people had jumped backward in alarm, including me. "There's a boggart in there."

Neville gave Professor Lupin a look of pure terror, and at my side, Seamus Finnigan eyed the now rattling doorknob apprehensively.

"Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces," said Professor Lupin. "Wardrobes, the gap beneath beds, the cupboards under sinks — I've even met one that had lodged itself in a grandfather clock. This one moved in yesterday afternoon, and I asked the headmaster if the staff would leave it to give my third years some practice.

"So, the first question we must ask ourselves is, what is a boggart?"

Hermione put up her hand.

"It's a shape-shifter," she said. "It can take the shape of whatever it thinks will frighten us most."

"Couldn't have put it better myself," said Professor Lupin, and Hermione glowed at me. I gave her a thumbs up. 

"So the boggart sitting in the darkness within has not yet assumed a form. He does not yet know what will frighten the person on the other side of the door. Nobody knows what a boggart looks like when he is alone, but when I let him out, he will immediately become whatever each of us most fears."

"This means," said Professor Lupin, choosing to ignore Neville's small sputter of terror, "that we have a huge advantage over the boggart before we begin. Have you spotted it, (Y/N)?" I didn't miss him glance towards my tie and frown. 

Trying to answer a question with Hermione next to me, bobbing up and down on the balls of her feet with her hand in the air, was very off-putting, but I attempted. (Ignoring the fact he knew my name.)

"Er — because there are so many of us, it won't know what shape it should be?"

"Precisely," said Professor Lupin, and Hermione put her hand down, looking a little disappointed, but glad I had done well. 

"It's always best to have company when you're dealing with a boggart. He becomes confused. Which should he become, a headless corpse or a flesh-eating slug? I once saw a boggart make that very mistake — tried to frighten two people at once and turned himself into half a slug. Not remotely frightening. The charm that repels a boggart is simple, yet it requires force of mind. You see, the thing that really finishes a boggart is laughter. What you need to do is force it to assume a shape that you find amusing." 

"We will practice the charm without wands first. After me, please. . .Riddikulus !"

"Riddikulus!" we all said together.

"Good," said Professor Lupin. "Very good. But that was the easy part, I'm afraid. You see, the word alone is not enough. And this is where you come in, Neville."

The wardrobe shook again, though not as much as Neville, who walked forward as though he were heading for the gallows.

"Right, Neville," said Professor Lupin. "First things first: what would you say is the thing that frightens you most in the world?"

Neville's lips moved, but no noise came out.

"Didn't catch that, Neville, sorry," said Professor Lupin cheerfully.

Neville looked around rather wildly, as though begging someone to help him, then said, in barely more than a whisper, "Professor Snape."

Nearly everyone laughed, not me, not Hermione. Neville grinned apologetically. Professor Lupin, however, looked thoughtful.

"Professor Snape. . .hmmm. . .Neville, I believe you live with your grandmother?"

"Er — yes," said Neville nervously. "But — I don't want the boggart to turn into her either."

"No, no, you misunderstand me," said Professor Lupin, now smiling. "I wonder, could you tell us what sort of clothes your grandmother usually wears?"

Neville looked startled, but said, "Well. . . always the same hat. A tall one with a stuffed vulture on top. And a long dress . . .green, normally. . . and sometimes a fox-fur scarf."

"And a handbag?" prompted Professor Lupin.

"A big red one," said Neville.

"Right then," said Professor Lupin. "Can you picture those clothes very clearly, Neville? Can you see them in your mind's eye?"

"Yes," said Neville uncertainly, plainly wondering what was coming next.

"When the boggart bursts out of this wardrobe, Neville, and sees you, it will assume the form of Professor Snape," said Lupin. "And you will raise your wand — thus — and cry 'Riddikulus ' — and concentrate hard on your grandmother's clothes. If all goes well, Professor Boggart Snape will be forced into that vulture-topped hat, and that green dress, with that big red handbag."

There was a great shout of laughter. The wardrobe wobbled more violently.

"If Neville is successful, the boggart is likely to shift his attention to each of us in turn," said Professor Lupin. "I would like all of you to take a moment now to think of the thing that scares you most, and imagine how you might force it to look comical. ..."

The room went quiet. I began to think. . . What scared me most in the world?

Many people had their eyes shut tight. Ron was muttering to himself, "Take its legs off." I was sure I knew what that was about. Ron's greatest fear had to be spiders or roaches.

"Everyone ready?" said Professor Lupin.

I felt a lurch of fear. I wasn't ready. I didn't even know what I feared most, but I wasn't about to ask for more time; everyone else was nodding and rolling up their sleeves.

"Neville, we're going to back away," said Professor Lupin. "Let you have a clear field, all right? I'll call the next person forward. . .Everyone back, now, so Neville can get a clear shot —"

We all retreated, backed against the walls, leaving Neville alone beside the wardrobe. He looked pale and frightened, but he had pushed up the sleeves of his robes and was holding his wand ready.

"On the count of three, Neville," said Professor Lupin, who was pointing his own wand at the handle of the wardrobe. "One — two — three — now !"

A jet of sparks shot from the end of Professor Lupin's wand and hit the doorknob. The wardrobe burst open. Hook-nosed and menacing, Professor Snape stepped out, his eyes flashing at Neville.

Neville backed away, his wand up, mouthing wordlessly. Snape was bearing down upon him, reaching inside his robes.  
"R — r — riddikulus !" squeaked Neville.

There was a noise like a whip crack. Snape stumbled; he was wearing a long, lace-trimmed dress and a towering hat topped with a moth-eaten vulture, and he was swinging a huge crimson handbag.

There was a roar of laughter; the boggart paused, confused, and Professor Lupin shouted, "Parvati! Forward!" I quickly scurries to the back of the class.

Parvati walked forward, her face set. Snape rounded on her. There was another crack, and where he had stood was a bloodstained, bandaged mummy; its sightless face was turned to Parvati and it began to walk toward her very slowly, dragging its feet, its stiff arms rising —

"Riddikulus !" cried Parvati.

A bandage unraveled at the mummy's feet; it became entangled, fell face forward, and its head rolled off.

"Seamus!" roared Professor Lupin.

Seamus darted past Parvati.

CRACK! Where the mummy had been was a woman with floor-length black hair and a skeletal, green-tinged face — a banshee. She opened her mouth wide and an unearthly sound filled the room, a long, wailing shriek that made the hair on Harry's head stand on end —

"Riddikulus !" shouted Seamus.

The banshee made a rasping noise and clutched her throat; her voice was gone.

CRACK! The banshee turned into a rat, which chased its tail in a circle, then — CRACK! — became a rattlesnake, which slithered and writhed before — CRACK! — becoming a single, bloody eyeball.

"It's confused!" shouted Lupin. "We're getting there! Dean!"Dean hurried forward.

CRACK! The eyeball became a severed hand, which flipped over and began to creep along the floor like a crab.

"Riddikulus !" yelled Dean.

There was a snap, and the hand was trapped in a mousetrap.  
"Excellent! Ron, you next!"

Ron leapt forward.

CRACK!

Quite a few people screamed. A giant spider, six feet tall and covered in hair, was advancing on Ron, clicking its pincers menacingly. For a moment, I thought Ron had frozen. Then —  
"Riddikulus !" bellowed Ron, and the spider's legs vanished; it rolled over and over; Lavender Brown squealed and ran out of its way and it came to a halt at Harry's feet. He raised his wand, ready, but —

"Here!" shouted Professor Lupin suddenly, hurrying forward.  
CRACK !

The legless spider had vanished. For a second, everyone looked wildly around to see where it was. Then they saw a silvery-white orb hanging in the air in front of Lupin, who said, "Riddikulus !" almost lazily.

CRACK !

"Forward, Neville, and finish him off!" said Lupin as the boggart landed on the floor as a cockroach. Crack ! Snape was back. This time Neville charged forward looking determined.  
"Riddikulus !" he shouted, and they had a split second's view of Snape in his lacy dress before Neville let out a great "Ha!" of laughter, and the boggart exploded, burst into a thousand tiny wisps of smoke, and was gone.

"Excellent!" cried Professor Lupin as the class broke into applause. "Excellent, Neville. Well done, everyone. ... Let me see. . .five points for every person to tackle the boggart — ten for Neville because he did it twice. . . and five each to Hermione and (Y/N)."

"But I didn't do anything," I said gazing at the professor a little too long, Hermione noticed and nudged my side.

"You and Hermione answered my questions correctly at the start of the class, (Y/N)," Lupin said lightly, causing butterflies to erupt in my stomach, I looked away quickly. 

"Very well, everyone, an excellent lesson. Homework, kindly read the chapter on boggarts and summarize it for me. . .to be handed in on Monday. That will be all."

Talking excitedly, the class left the staffroom.

"Did you see me take that banshee?" shouted Seamus.

"And the hand!" said Dean, waving his own around.

"And Snape in that hat!"

"And my mummy!"

"I wonder why Professor Lupin's frightened of crystal balls?" said Lavender thoughtfully.

"That was the best Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson we've ever had, wasn't it?" said Ron excitedly as we made our way back to the classroom to get their bags.

"He seems like a very good teacher, (Y/N) really seems to think" said Hermione, with a chastising tone i could only hear. "But I wish I could have had a turn with the boggart —"

"What would it have been for you?" said Ron, sniggering, not noticing her dig at me. "A piece of homework that only got nine out of ten?" Harry and I both laughed as Hermione scowled.

In no time at all, Defense Against the Dark Arts had become my favorite class. Only Draco Malfoy and his gang of Slytherins had anything bad to say about Professor Lupin.

"Look at the state of his robes," Malfoy would say in a loud whisper as Professor Lupin passed. "He dresses like our old house-elf."

But I didn't care that Professor Lupin's robes were patched and frayed. His next few lessons were just as interesting as the first. After boggarts, we studied Red Caps, nasty little goblinlike creatures that lurked wherever there had been bloodshed: in the dungeons of castles and the potholes of deserted battlefields, waiting to bludgeon those who had gotten lost. From Red Caps we moved on to kappas, creepy water-dwellers that looked like scaly monkeys, with webbed hands itching to strangle unwitting waders in their ponds. He made a a class I usually dreaded, one of my favorites. 

I wished I was as happy with some of my other classes. Worst of all was Potions, I was good at it at Ilvermorny. Snape was always in a particularly vindictive mood, and no one was in any doubt why. The story of the boggart assuming Snape's shape, and the way that Neville had dressed it in his grandmother's clothes, had traveled through the school like wildfire. Snape didn't seem to find it funny. His eyes flashed menacingly at the very mention of Professor Lupin's name, and he was bullying Neville worse than ever.

I began growing to dread the hours I spent in Professor Trelawney's stifling tower room, deciphering lopsided shapes and symbols, trying to ignore the way Professor Trelawney's enormous eyes filled with tears every time she looked at Harry or mentioned my soulmate needing me. I couldn't like Professor Trelawney, even though she was treated with respect bordering on reverence by many of the class. Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown had taken to haunting Professor Trelawney's tower room at lunchtimes, and always returned with annoyingly superior looks on their faces, as though they knew things the others didn't. They had also started using hushed voices whenever they spoke to Harry, as though he were on his deathbed.

Nobody else really liked Care of Magical Creatures, which, after the action-packed first class, had become extremely dull. Hagrid seemed to have lost his confidence. We now spent lesson after lesson learning how to look after flobberworms, which had to be some of the most boring creatures in existence. I preferred the hippogriffs.

Why would anyone bother looking after them?" said Ron, after yet another hour of poking shredded lettuce down the flobberworms' slimy throats. I agreed with him. 

At the start of October, however, I had something else to occupy me, something so enjoyable it more than made up for my unsatisfactory classes. The Quidditch season was approaching, and Marcus Flint had taken an interest in me.

Ron had spoke of the game and got me hooked. I was going to get onto the team now that Draco Malfoy created a vacancy for one of the players. I actually had a chance to fix the misogynistic Slytherin ideologies. 

"Can I play too? Or is it just for boys?" I asked with a large smile steered to Marcus as the Slytherin quidditch team landed on the ground after a nasty practice.

"Usually it is, but maybe I'll make an exception?" Flint had asked, causing the rest of the team to murmur.

Blaise was on the quidditch team, holding a bat, looking very interested in the idea of me being on the team. He gave me a wink and began to talk to Flint.

Another player, whose name I didn't know, began to get really mad; the others didn't seem to care too much and began leaving.

"I've been here three years, and I didn't just walk up to an practice to get on. I tried out, you missed them. Tough shit." He scowled. 

"Now, Pucey—"

"You've been here three years, and you know what? All I've heard is how Slytherin hasn't had the cup in years." I said cooly. "After this practice, I see why your team hasn’t got it." The team turned back to our argument and began to listen, Blaise smiled proudly.

"You little—"

"It's only fair if she gets to try out. Scared you might be replaced, Adrian?" Blaise asked suggestively, "Flint, I do wish there were girls in the locker room, cant bare with the stench anymore."

Everyone began talking at once, either hating or adoring the idea of having a girl on the team. Many of them looked scared, eyebrows raised as they began to shake with anger.

"QUIET, OR NO ONE IS STAYING ON THE TEAM!" Flint bellowed out. Everyone went completely silent, the only noise came from Draco Malfoy. He was in the audience stands, finding a better place to watch the practice. His eyes narrowed once he spotted me.

“That settles it then. Practice is prolonged,” Flint spoke. “(Y/N) I wanna see you as a chaser and then a beater, Adrian you’re going to be replacing Draco as seeker in the Ravenclaw match. Has anyone got an extra broom? And I’ll need her to have the proper uniform.” He said eyeing my skirt. 

“I’ll take her to the locker room and see what we can find,” Blaise said, quickly trying to get me out of Flint’s view.

After Blaise had gotten me into the old uniform and gotten me someone’s older broom, we set out on the field. 

“Have you ever even been on a broom?” He asked, worried. 

“Nope.” I grinned. His eyes widened.

For an hour and a half I had many quaffles passed at me to score, bludgers aimed at my neck out of fury, and burly teenage boys knocking into my sides as I played. Not once did I allow myself to be bullied or intimidated by these foul boys.

My soles were punctured with splinters and my palms were raw from the foreign contact. My ribs were going to be deeply bruised from other players elbows. My scalp and body were covered in a sheen of sweat as we landed on the pitch. 

“Not bad, (Y/N), not bad at all. Just don’t flinch too much when players get physical flying next to you. How would you feel about being a beater for the Ravenclaw match?” Flint asked, very astounded at my performance.

“I’d love to!” I exclaimed, earning a pat on my back from Blaise and pleased sounds from a chaser and keeper. I could hear groans coming from Adrian and Draco, who had came down to protest. 

“This will be in the bag! They’re good, but not better than us. They aren’t expecting us to switch to Ravenclaw too. And with (Y/N) on the team, we actually have a fair shot. I don’t want any of you mentioning our secret weapon, got it? Nobody better know she’s on the team. Alright, Adrian, Draco?” He asked condescendingly at their pouting, they were clearly upset I outplayed them. “Don’t make my team vulnerable because you’re jealous. You’ll regret it.” He threatened. “Everyone back to the common room! We have to talk about plays!”

Ron was in a bad mood with Hermione next day. They had another argument about Hermione’s cat going at Scabbers. I didn’t mind too much, Scabbers was a nasty little rat. I didn’t want it around. Ron had barely talked to her all through Herbology, even though he, Harry, Hermione, and I were working together on the same puffapod. He must have not thought Scabbers was a musty rodent.

“How’s Scabbers?” Hermione asked timidly as we stripped fat pink pods from the plants and emptied the shining beans into a wooden pail.

“He’s hiding at the bottom of my bed, shaking,” said Ron angrily, missing the pail and scattering beans over the greenhouse floor.

“Careful, Weasley, careful!” cried Professor Sprout as the beans burst into bloom before their very eyes.

We had Transfiguration next. Harry and I had resolved to ask Professor McGonagall after the lesson whether we could go into Hogsmeade with the rest. We joined the line outside the class trying to decide how we were going to argue this case. We became distracted, however, by a disturbance at the front of the line.

Lavender Brown seemed to be crying. Parvati had her arm around her and was explaining something to Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, who were looking very serious.

“What’s the matter, Lavender?” said Hermione anxiously as we went to join the group.

“She got a letter from home this morning,” Parvati whispered. “It’s her rabbit, Binky. He’s been killed by a fox.”

“Oh,” said Hermione, “I’m sorry, Lavender.”

“I should have known!” said Lavender tragically. “You know what day it is?”

“Er —”

“The sixteenth of October! ‘That thing you’re dreading, it will happen on the sixteenth of October!’ Remember? She was right, she was right!”

The whole class was gathered around Lavender now. Seamus shook his head seriously. Hermione hesitated; then she said, “You — you were dreading Binky being killed by a fox?” Her brows furrowed and her mouth formed into a wonky frown.

“Well, not necessarily by a fox,” said Lavender, looking up at Hermione with streaming eyes, “but I was obviously dreading him dying, wasn’t I?”

“Oh,” said Hermione. She paused again, brows furrowing more. Then —“Was Binky an old rabbit?”

“N — no!” sobbed Lavender. “H — he was only a baby!” Parvati tightened her arm around Lavender’s shoulders.

“But then, why would you dread him dying?” said Hermione. Parvati glared at her. I turned to give Hermione a look.

“Well, look at it logically,” said Hermione, turning to the rest of the group. “I mean, Binky didn’t even die today, did he? Lavender just got the news today —” Lavender wailed loudly. “— and she can’t have been dreading it, because it’s come as a real shock —”

“Don’t mind Hermione, Lavender,” said Ron loudly, “she doesn’t think other people’s pets matter very much.” 

“Ron, you know she doesn’t want anything to happen to your ugly rat.” I whisper yelled, earning a chuckle from Harry and a nod from Hermione. He ignored me.

Professor McGonagall opened the classroom door at that moment, which was perhaps lucky; Hermione and Ron were looking daggers at each other, and when they got into class, they seated themselves on either side of Harry and I and didn’t talk to each other for the whole class.

We still hadn’t decided what he was going to say to Professor McGonagall when the bell rang at the end of the lesson, but it was she who brought up the subject of Hogsmeade first.

“One moment, please!” she called as the class made to leave. 

“As the majority of you are all in my House, you should hand Hogsmeade permission forms to me before Halloween. No form, no visiting the village, so don’t forget!”

Neville put up his hand.

“Please, Professor, I — I think I’ve lost —”

“Your grandmother sent yours to me directly, Longbottom,” said Professor McGonagall. “She seemed to think it was safer. Well, that’s all, you may leave.”

“Ask her now,” Ron hissed at Harry and I, giving us daggers. 

“Oh, but —” Hermione began.

“Go for it, (Y/N), Harry,” said Ron stubbornly.

We silently decided to wait for the rest of the class to disappear, then headed nervously for Professor McGonagall’s desk.

“Yes, Potter?” she turned to me, “and Miss (L/N)?”

Harry took a deep breath.

“Professor, my aunt and uncle — er — forgot to sign my form,” he said.

“I wasn’t given a form, when I had received my letter, I only had the supplies list.” I added.

Professor McGonagall looked over her square spectacles at both of us but didn’t say anything. I glanced at Harry for help.

“So — er — d’you think it would be all right — I mean, will it be okay if I — if we go to Hogsmeade?”

Professor McGonagall looked down and began shuffling papers on her desk.

“I’m afraid not, Potter,” she said. “You heard what I said. No form, no visiting the village. That’s the rule.”

“But — Professor, my aunt and uncle — you know, they’re Muggles, they don’t really understand about — about Hogwarts forms and stuff,” Harry said, while Ron egged him on with vigor-ous nods. “If you said I could go —”

“But I don’t say so,” said Professor McGonagall, standing up and piling her papers neatly into a drawer. “The form clearly states that the parent or guardian must give permission.” She turned to look at him, with an odd expression on her face. Was it pity? “I’m sorry, Potter, but that’s my final word. You had better hurry, or you’ll be late for your next lesson. On the other hand, Miss (L/N), we can owl Mr. and Mrs. Granger the permission slip. I’m not quite sure why you didn’t receive one. But you’ll only be able to participate in future trips, not this one.”

There was nothing to be done. Ron called Professor McGonagall a lot of names that greatly annoyed Hermione; Hermione assumed an “all-for-the-best” expression that made Ron even angrier, and Harry had to endure everyone in the class talking loudly and happily about what they were going to do first, once they got into Hogsmeade. I had tried to make him feel better with the fact that at least we wouldn’t be alone, but he still looked defeated.

“There’s always the feast,” said Ron, in an effort to cheer Harry up. “You know, the Halloween feast, in the evening.”

“Yeah,” said Harry gloomily, “great.”

“Ron, that’s not the same as trying on Evelyn Jacobs and Désirée Pascal.” I whined.

“(Y/N) following the rules is much more important than designer clothes.” Hermione said, but quickly closed her mouth when she saw the look Harry and I gave her.

The Halloween feast was absolutely scrumptious, but it would taste a lot better if he was coming to it after a day in Hogsmeade with everyone else. 

Nothing anyone said made me feel any better about being left behind. Dean Thomas, who was good with a quill, had offered to forge a signature on the form for me, but I had already told Professor McGonagall I hadn’t had it signed or received, that was no good. Ron half-heartedly suggested Harry’s Invisibility Cloak, but Hermione stomped on that one, reminding Ron what Dumbledore had told them about the dementors being able to see through them. Percy had what were possibly the least helpful words of comfort.

“They make a fuss about Hogsmeade, but I assure you both, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be,” he said seriously. “All right, the sweetshop’s rather good, and Zonko’s Joke Shop’s frankly dangerous, and yes, the Shrieking Shack’s always worth a visit, but really, apart from that, you’re not missing anything.”

On Halloween morning, I awoke with the Slytherin girls and went down to breakfast, feeling thoroughly depressed, though doing my best to act normally for the trio I had just arrived at.

“We’ll bring you lots of sweets back from Honeydukes,” said Hermione, looking desperately sorry for us.

“Yeah, loads,” said Ron. He and Hermione had finally forgotten their squabble about Crookshanks in the face of our difficulties.

“Don’t worry about me,” said Harry, in what he hoped was an offhand voice, “I have (Y/N).” He gave me a small smile, “I’ll see you at the feast. Have a good time.”

We accompanied them to the entrance hall, where Filch, the caretaker, was standing inside the front doors, checking off names against a long list, peering suspiciously into every face, and making sure that no one was sneaking out who shouldn’t be going.

“Staying here, Potter?” shouted Malfoy, who was standing in line with Crabbe and Goyle. “Scared of passing the dementors?”

Harry ignored him and asked if we could make our way up the marble staircase, through the deserted corridors, and back to Gryffindor Tower.

“Password?” said the Fat Lady, jerking out of a doze.

“Fortuna Major,” said Harry listlessly.

The portrait swung open and we climbed through the hole into the common room. It was full of chattering first and second years, and a few older students, who had obviously visited Hogsmeade so often the novelty had worn off.

“Harry! Harry! Hi, Harry!”

It was Colin Creevey, a second year who was deeply in awe of Harry and never missed an opportunity to speak to him. “Aren’t you going to Hogsmeade, Harry? Why not? Hey” — Colin looked eagerly around at his friends — “you can come and sit with us, if you like, Harry! And your pretty friend—Whats her name—Oh yeah, (Y/N)!” I looked towards Harry alarmed, he grinned back.

“Er — no, thanks, Colin,” said Harry, who wasn’t in the mood. “W-we’ve got to go to the library, got to get some work done.”

“Harry!” I whispered, “I don’t wanna spend all day in the library. . .”

After that, we had no choice but to turn right around and head back out of the portrait hole again.

“What was the point waking me up?” the Fat Lady called grumpily after us as we walked away.

We wandered dispiritedly toward the library, but halfway there Harry changed his mind; he didn’t feel like working. He turned around, grabbing my arm and we came face-to-face with Filch, who had obviously just seen off the last of the Hogsmeade visitors.

“What are you doing?” Filch snarled suspiciously.

“Nothing,” said Harry truthfully, I said annoyed.

“Nothing!” spat Filch, his jowls quivering unpleasantly. “A likely story! Sneaking around on your own — why aren’t you in Hogsmeade buying Stink Pellets and Belch Powder and Whizzing Worms like the rest of your nasty little friends?”  
Harry shrugged, my shoulders drooped sadly.

“Well, get back to your common room where you belong!” snapped Filch, and he stood glaring until we had passed out of sight.

We didn’t go back to our common rooms. 

“Harry?” I asked as we walked to the Owlery, we wanted to see Hedwig.

He hummed in response. 

“Well, I’m not really supposed to say anything, I’m probably not telling Ron or Hermione until the day of, but I really need some Quidditch advice. Hermione told me you were the best in the school! I understand the basics and how to fly and everything, but—”

“You’ve made the Slytherin Quidditch team!? That’s amazing, they haven’t had a girl in ages! What position?” He asked supper intrigued. 

“Flint had said beater for the Ravenclaw game, I’m not too bad with a bat.” I said.

“Wow! I’m seeker, so I’m probably not going to be much help. . .But I think Gryffindor is supposed to be playing against Slytherin? Roger Davies and Jeremy Stretton aren’to too good. Anyways, are you good?”

“I’m alright. . . Just enough for Flint to put me on while Malfoy is injured. I scored seventeen times as a chaser, though!”

“That’s really good!” He smirked mischievously, “I’ll be glad to beat you during our match.”

“Thanks! I’ll feel really accomplished when I see that smirk wiped off your face from a bludger.” His smirk grew.

“Harry? (Y/N)?”

We doubled back to see who had spoken and met Professor Lupin, looking around his office door.

“What are you doing?” said Lupin, though in a very different voice from Filch. “Where are Ron and Hermione?”

“Hogsmeade,” said Harry, in a would-be casual voice.

“Ah,” said Lupin. He considered us for a moment. “Why don’t you both come in? I’ve just taken delivery of a grindylow for our next lesson.”

“A grindylow?!” I asked excitedly.

“A what?” said Harry.

We followed Lupin into his office. In the corner stood a very large tank of water. A sickly green creature with sharp little horns had its face pressed against the glass, pulling faces and flexing its long, spindly fingers. I stared mesmerized.

“Water demon,” said Lupin, surveying the grindylow thought-fully. “We shouldn’t have much difficulty with him, not after the kappas. The trick is to break his grip. You notice the abnormally long fingers? Strong, but very brittle.”

The grindylow bared its green teeth and then buried itself in a tangle of weeds in a corner.

“Cup of tea?” Lupin said, looking around for his kettle. “I was just thinking of making one.”

“All right,” said Harry awkwardly, he looked at me for what to do but I shrugged. 

Lupin tapped the kettle with his wand and a blast of steam issued suddenly from the spout.

“Sit down,” said Lupin, taking the lid off a dusty tin. “I’ve only got teabags, I’m afraid — but I daresay you’ve had enough of tea leaves?”

Harry looked at him as I laughed. Lupin’s eyes were twinkling.

“How did you know about that?” Harry asked.

“Professor McGonagall told me,” said Lupin, passing Harry a chipped mug of tea. “You’re not worried, are you?”

“No,” said Harry.

“Anything worrying you, Harry?”

“No,” Harry bad definitely lied. He drank a bit of tea and watched the grindy-low brandishing a fist at us. “Yes,” he said suddenly, putting his tea down on Lupin’s desk. “You know that day we fought the boggart? I sipped my tea, watching Harry begin to play with the end of his sleeve and bounce his leg absentmindedly.

“Yes,” said Lupin slowly.

“Why didn’t you let me fight it?” said Harry abruptly.  
Lupin raised his eyebrows.

“I would have thought that was obvious, Harry,” he said, sounding surprised.

Harry, who had expected Lupin to deny that he’d done any such thing, was taken aback.

“Why?” he said again.

“Well,” said Lupin, frowning slightly, “I assumed that if the boggart faced you, it would assume the shape of Lord Voldemort.”

Harry stared. Not only was this the last answer he’d expected, but Lupin had said Voldemort’s name. The only person Harry had ever heard say the name aloud (apart from himself) was Professor Dumbledore.

“Clearly, I was wrong,” said Lupin, still frowning at Harry. “But I didn’t think it a good idea for Lord Voldemort to materialize in the staffroom. I imagined that people would panic.”

“I didn’t think of Voldemort,” said Harry honestly. “I — I remembered those dementors.”

“I see,” said Lupin thoughtfully. “Well, well … I’m impressed.” He smiled slightly at the look of surprise on Harry’s face. “That suggests that what you fear most of all is — fear. Very wise, Harry.”

“(Y/N), you didn’t want to practice with the boggart. Why?” He looked at me almost as if he knew me and was disappointed.

I swallowed hard, trying to ignore that and the flashing images of Ali’s ‘what if’s’.

“Not sure what it would have been, I would have rather been more prepared.

Harry didn’t know what to say to that, so he drank some more tea and Lupin nodded.

“So you’ve been thinking that I didn’t believe you capable of fighting the boggart?” said Lupin shrewdly towards Harry.

“Well … yeah,” said Harry. He was suddenly seeming a lot happier. 

“Professor-” I began to ask about the charm he used on the dementors, I’m pretty sure Harry could tell.

I was interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Come in,” called Lupin.

The door opened, and in came Snape. He was carrying a goblet, which was smoking faintly, and stopped at the sight of both of us next to Lupin, his black eyes narrowing.

“Ah, Severus,” said Lupin, smiling. “Thanks very much. Could you leave it here on the desk for me?”

Snape set down the smoking goblet, his eyes wandering between Harry, Lupin, and I.

“I was just showing them my grindylow,” said Lupin pleasantly, pointing at the tank.

“Fascinating,” said Snape, without looking at it. “You should drink that directly, Lupin.”

“Yes, yes, I will,” said Lupin.

“I made an entire cauldronful,” Snape continued. “If you need more.”

“I should probably take some again tomorrow. Thanks very much, Severus.”

“Not at all,” said Snape, but there was a look in his eye I didn’t like. He backed out of the room, unsmiling and watchful.  
I looked curiously at the goblet. Lupin smiled.

“Professor Snape has very kindly concocted a potion for me,” he said. “I have never been much of a potion-brewer and this one is particularly complex.” He picked up the goblet and sniffed it. “Pity sugar makes it useless,” he added, taking a sip and shuddering.

“Why — ?” I began. Lupin looked at me and answered the unfinished question.

“I’ve been feeling a bit off-color,” he said. “This potion is the only thing that helps. I am very lucky to be working alongside Professor Snape; there aren’t many wizards who are up to making it.”

Professor Lupin took another sip and Harry looked urged to knock the goblet out of his hands.

“Professor Snape’s very interested in the Dark Arts,” he blurted out. He looked at me worried.

“Really?” said Lupin, looking only mildly interested as he took another gulp of potion.

“Some people reckon —” Harry hesitated, then plunged reck-lessly on, “some people reckon he’d do anything to get the Defense Against the Dark Arts job.”

Lupin drained the goblet and pulled a face.

“Disgusting,” he said. “Well, Harry, (Y/N), I’d better get back to work. I’ll see you at the feast later.”

“Right,” said Harry, putting down his empty teacup.

The empty goblet was still smoking.

Me and Harry quickly ran off, starting to wonder if Snape had poisoned the new professor.

“There you go,” said Ron. “We got as much as we could carry.”

A shower of brilliantly colored sweets fell into my lap. It was dusk, and Ron and Hermione had just turned up in the Gryffindor common room, pink-faced from the cold wind and looking as though they’d had the time of their lives. How lovely.

“Thanks,” said Harry, picking up a packet of tiny black Pepper Imps. “What’s Hogsmeade like? Where did you go?”

“What’s it like? What shops did you go to?” I asked pleadingly.

By the sound of it — everywhere. Dervish and Banges, the wiz-arding equipment shop, Zonko’s Joke Shop, into the Three Broom-sticks for foaming mugs of hot butterbeer, and many places besides.

“The post office, Harry! About two hundred owls, all sitting on shelves, all color-coded depending on how fast you want your let-ter to get there!”

“(Y/N), Honeydukes has got a new kind of fudge; they were giving out free samples, there’s a bit, look —”

“We think we saw an ogre, honestly, they get all sorts at the Three Broomsticks —”

“Wish we could have brought you some butterbeer, really warms you up, (Y/N)—”

“What did you do?” said Hermione, looking anxious. “Did you get any work done?”

“No,” said Harry, looking at me for approval, I nodded, “Lupin made me a cup of tea in his office. And then Snape came in. . .”

I then told them all about the goblet. Ron’s mouth fell open.

“Lupin drank it?” he gasped. “Is he mad?”

Hermione checked her watch.

“We’d better go down, you know, the feast’ll be starting in five minutes. …” We hurried through the portrait hole and into the crowd, still discussing Snape.

“But if he — you know” — Hermione dropped her voice, glancing nervously around — “if he was trying to — to poison Lupin — he wouldn’t have done it in front of you two.”

“Yeah, maybe,” said Harry as we reached the entrance hall and crossed into the Great Hall. It had been decorated with hundreds and hundreds of candle-filled pumpkins, a cloud of fluttering live bats, and many flaming orange streamers, which were swimming lazily across the stormy ceiling like brilliant watersnakes.

The food was delicious; even Hermione and Ron, who were full to bursting with Honeydukes sweets, managed second helpings of everything. I noticed Harry kept glancing at the staff table. 

Professor Lupin looked cheerful and as well as he ever did; he was talking animat-edly to tiny little Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher. I moved my eyes along the table, to the place where Snape sat. Was I imagining it, or were Snape’s eyes flickering toward Lupin more often than was natural?

The feast finished with an entertainment provided by the Hog-warts ghosts. They popped out of the walls and tables to do a bit of formation gliding; Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost, had a great success with a reenactment of his own botched be-heading.

It had been such a pleasant evening that my good mood couldn’t even be spoiled by Malfoy, who shouted through the crowd at Harry as we all left the hall, “The dementors send their love, Potter!”

Hermione had got me to follow the rest of the Gryffindors along the usual path to Gryffindor Tower, but when we reached the corridor that ended with the portrait of the Fat Lady, it was jammed with students.

“Why isn’t anyone going in?” said Ron curiously.

I peered over the heads in front of me. The portrait seemed to be closed.

“Let me through, please,” came Percy’s voice, and he came bustling importantly through the crowd. “What’s the holdup here? You can’t all have forgotten the password — excuse me, I’m Head Boy —”

And then a silence fell over the crowd, from the front first, so that a chill seemed to spread down the corridor. I heard Percy say, in a suddenly sharp voice, “Somebody get Professor Dumbledore. Quick.”

People’s heads turned; those at the back were standing on tip-toe.

“What’s going on?” said Ginny, who had just arrived.

A moment later, Professor Dumbledore was there, sweeping toward the portrait; the Gryffindors squeezed together to let him through, we moved closer to see what the trouble was.

“Oh, my —” Hermione grabbed my arm.

The Fat Lady had vanished from her portrait, which had been slashed so viciously that strips of canvas littered the floor; great chunks of it had been torn away completely.

Dumbledore took one quick look at the ruined painting and turned, his eyes somber, to see Professors McGonagall, Lupin, and Snape hurrying toward him.

“We need to find her,” said Dumbledore. “Professor McGonagall, please go to Mr. Filch at once and tell him to search every painting in the castle for the Fat Lady.”

“You’ll be lucky!” said a cackling voice.

It was Peeves the Poltergeist, bobbing over the crowd and look-ing delighted, as he always did, at the sight of wreckage or worry.

“What do you mean, Peeves?” said Dumbledore calmly, and Peeves’s grin faded a little. He didn’t dare taunt Dumbledore. Instead he adopted an oily voice that was no better than his cackle.

“Ashamed, Your Headship, sir. Doesn’t want to be seen. She’s a horrible mess. Saw her running through the landscape up on the fourth floor, sir, dodging between the trees. Crying something dreadful,” he said happily. “Poor thing,” he added unconvincingly.

“Did she say who did it?” said Dumbledore quietly.  
“Oh yes, Professorhead,” said Peeves, with the air of one cradling a large bombshell in his arms. “He got very angry when she wouldn’t let him in, you see.” Peeves flipped over and grinned at Dumbledore from between his own legs. “Nasty temper he’s got, that Sirius Black.” Hermione and I gasped.


End file.
